


Love's Vengeance

by Haikyuuvlb



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-01-19 17:26:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 39,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1477975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haikyuuvlb/pseuds/Haikyuuvlb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Britannia Angel is a god who desires a seat among the Divine gods. Alfred is a human appointed to fight on his behalf. But when Alfred discovers he is the reincarnation of Arthur's past lover he is no longer sure if Arthur loves him for who he is or who he used to be. Co-written with Nuclear-taste.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Blood. Everywhere he looked all he could see was blood. 

“Retreat! Retreat!” The captain called out, but which captain, which side? Everything seemed to slow down. Alfred felt numb even as the arrows pierced his flesh, his armor doing little to protect him. He felt limply to the ground, another loss to be counted nothing more. This battle and every other like it were all for the glory of the Agax empire. Even as the light slowly faded from his eyes Alfred wasn’t afraid. He had been taught not to fear death, for he knew he would join his ancestors among the Gods. He would be merry and his ancestors would celebrate his arrival with food and drink.

All the trials in his life time were over. Or so he thought…

Alfred was dying, abandoned by his master who retreated leaving the dead and the dying. In the aftermath of the long and grueling battle, enemy soldiers patrolled the grounds, recovering the bodies of their own and killing the Alfred's soldiers. Soon, it would be Alfred dead at their hands if he did not bleed out first. 

Then, a voice interrupted Alfred's death reverie, lovely with a high lilt as clear as silver bells. "Over ten thousands men died today fighting over a bridge. I remember when Man had such dedication to his gods." Out of the dead smoke from an extinguished fire the figure of a male emerged. He wore a short, sleeveless white chiffon with a single strap over one shoulder, but his features were shadowed in the near darkness. 

Alfred watched him warily as he approached. The blood of fallen soldiers staining the earth to mud did not touch his sandals as he serenely picked his way across the carnage. The soldiers didn't notice, but continued salvaging the battleground and drawing nearer to Alfred. 

It was a god, Alfred realized with alarm. An aura shimmered off his body like gold miasma, buffing his hair gold and brightening his brilliant emerald eyes. The god's eyes never left Alfred's face as he kneeled by the mortal's dying body. He gently cradled his head in his lap and stroked his filthy, bloody hair. "Dear knight," Britannia sighed with serene tenderness, "I have seen you battle this day. You fight valiantly, like a true gentleman, but here you are dying on the battlefield your army left you for dead.”

"But I have greater plans for you. Your master may have lost and you may have been bested by other men, but you have won my favor." He continued stroking his hair. "Accept my favor and live another day to serve me, Britannia Angel."

Alfred was silent in his reverence of the deity before him, for such a god to have chosen him above all others was an honor indeed. He gasped out for breath as the reality of his wounds came back to him. ‘I deserve not such an honor. Surely there are others who fought more bravely than I.’ Alfred thought to himself as he rasped for the breaths that would prolong his fading life. ‘Yet who am I to question the will of a god?’ 

“Yes.” Alfred rasped out, “May I be of use to you in whatever way you see fit.”

Britannia's fingers left his hair, drifting down the side of the knight's face with feather-light contact. His fingertips lighted over his lips and gently parted them. Then, he bent over Alfred and claimed his lips. He gently sucked on his cupid's bow before slanting his mouth over Alfred's and kissing him deeply. He tasted like honey, and his thirst was quenched. Alfred felt himself go drowsy even as they continued his blissful moment. It was all Alfred remembered before losing consciousness.

When Alfred woke up, it was daytime. He didn't know how long he sleep, or where he was. He lay in a pile of hay in an abandoned barn far out into the countryside, miles away from the battlefield. The knight was completely healed; not even the faintest scar told of his grievous wounds that would have cost him his life. And he was alone. Britannia was nowhere in sight, and Alfred could have thought it was dream if it weren't for the lingering taste of honey on his lips.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: VIOLENCE

It had been nearly a year since that fateful day on the battle field. Six months since Britannia had started appearing intermittently before him giving him one task or another. Some were as easy as fetching water for a bath and others were as insane as stealing a scale off a dragon’s back. Yet Alfred obeyed every order as he has sworn to, regardless of how bitter he now was to the offending god.

“Why the hell did I ever agree to serve that bastard?” Alfred asked to himself as he wondered through the Daarus Woods. He was tired and hungry from his travels, he simply wanted to go back to town and relax at a pub maybe have a nice steak with a pint of beer. Alfred's distracted mind causing him to trip over a tree root and slam his face into the ground. Alfred rolled over onto his back and screamed in frustration. “What’s so damn special about the water in these fucking woods? Huh? You hear me Britannia? Why do I need to bring you a vial of water from the centermost lake of these fucking woods!?!”

The lake was in a wide clearing opening up to the warm sky. Beautiful flowers and plants Alfred had never seen surrounded it. In the sparkling lake Britannia was bathing with his fae companions attending to him. When he caught a glimpse of Alfred through the trees, he rolled his eyes drolly and looked away. "You are late, sir knight. Do not step in the faerie circle." Indeed, Alfred's foot was precariously hovering over the ring of mushrooms that was told to be a sacred space faeries performed magic.

Alfred put his foot down away from the mushroom circle before looking up at the Britannia glaring as though looking hard enough would make the god vanish from before him. Alfred could have punched him if not for the fact that the god bathing before him had saved his life and convinced him to swear his allegiance. “I spent three fucking days in the woods searching for this so called magical lake with its supposed restorative properties, and I find you here just relaxing? Well then you can use your own damn vial to get the magical water.” Alfred turned and started marching back into the woods only to find himself right back at the lake. /Fucking gods and their fucking powers./ 

“Would you ever so kindly remove the magical barrier your holiness?” Alfred asked withholding as much venom as he could.

"Forget about the vial. That's not why you're here." He shooed away his attendants and relaxed in the cool waters. "Why don't you bathe? You stink from traipsing around in the wood for days." Britannia lifted an eyebrow beseechingly, twirling his finger in the water to gesture where Alfred should sit.

“Unless undressing and bathing will get me in a warm comfortable bed within the next hour then no, I would rather sit in my stink than bath right now.” Alfred plopped down on the grass where he stood knowing full well that Britannia would keep him there until the god grew bored of his presence. The quickest way to leave was to become as boring as possible. 

Alfred's impertinence was something Britannia was already well acquainted with. They had each other at a fine balance; Britannia tolerated Alfred's childishness so long as Alfred did what he was supposed to do. Britannia was legendary for his wrath of the unfaithful. It was one reason he was in such a bad place and needed Alfred as much as he did. 

Britannia sighed gently and went back to bathing. "You truly think you can outlast one who has lived for thousands of years? Do not be sore over small things."

Alfred sputtered, “Small things? I wasted three days in the woods for no reason and you call that small? I’m sure such a time must seem like a blink of the eye for you but not for me. Unlike you I have a set amount of years to live and an even smaller set until I grow too old to run around like this for you.” Alfred huffed and muttered under his breath, “Small things my ass.”

"And who is responsible for your continued life?!" Britannia shot to his feet, the water streaming down his naked body. His feet stayed on the surface of the lake as he stormed his way to Alfred. He stretched out his hand like a claw and Alfred's throat immediately closed up. The god closed his hand into a fist and the pressure on Alfred's neck strengthened. "Perhaps I should do away with you, stupid boy, and anointed a real man my favor."

Alfred choked but glared at the god before him daring him to finish the job. Britannia had threatened his life before it wasn’t anything new to Alfred as the knight quickly learned the legends about the god’s vindictive nature all to be true. If the god truly wanted to end Alfred then it would be so Alfred had accepted that truth from the moment he was given his first task.

"Do you truly wish to die?" Britannia cocked his head delicately to the side, eyes imploring and morbidly curious. He closed in on Alfred, kneeling in front of his sprawled body and crawling on top of him. He was laughing, an amused and silent chuckle. "You swore your entire being to me; body, mind, and spirit. It belongs to me. Me!" He growled, his eyes flashing before returning to normal.

Alfred's vision began fading to black instinct made Alfred's hands weakly try to push Arthur's away, but it was useless. The blackness of unconsciousness overtook him it was not pleasant like that of going to sleep it was tainted with fear, fear that this time he had pushed too far. This time he was actually going to die.

A spine chilling chuckle emanated from behind Arthur, “Now now if you do that then you’ll have lost our bet much too quickly.”

Britannia paused. It was the voice of Ivan, the god of the snow. Britannia groaned disgustedly and rolled his eyes, dropping Alfred's unconscious body like a sack to face the rival god with a saccharine smile. "Good morrow, Ivan. You're quite far from shore. Did you sister chase you out of your own family waters?" Britannia passed by Ivan disinterestedly to pick up his garments. He hated the god more than anything. It was his fault he was in this mess in the first place.

“No I simply desired your company. I do so enjoy our little chats.” Ivan walked towards the unconscious human his curiosity getting the better of him. He stared down at the crumpled up body breath just barely returning to a steady rhythm, “Romulus is quite angry that you upset the balance of life by saving this boy.” Ivan gently tapped Alfred with his shoe, “Was he really worth the trouble? After all you’ll lose in the end anyways. You would have lost today if I had not intervened.”

A spike of angry possessiveness jolted him into snapping at Ivan. "Do not touch him! He's mine." He roughly brushed past Ivan and kneeled beside his knight. He rested Alfred’s head in his lap much like he had the first time and the many times after that. "He is more of a child than a man," he admitted, though he sounded fonder than anything. "But I chose him. He will be my champion and ticket back into the Holy Nine." He frowned and looked up at Ivan challengingly. "Ludwig will regret taking my place."

Ivan chuckled, “I’m sure he will. I wish you luck in your coming trials, but alas I must return. After all the lives of the nine are always so busy.” Ivan smirked before vanishing into thin air. Alfred stirred slightly but did not wake. His body was still quite exhausted from his travels through the forest and his near-death experience. It was unlikely that he would wake anytime soon.

Britannia tisked at Ivan's abrupt retreat. So Ivan's intent was solely to mock him. The god angrily spun back to Alfred and paused, his face going soft. 

The young man lay in a serene sleep with his cheek pressed to the cool grass (never mind the circumstances he was unconscious). Britannia lay next to him. He watched his youthful face unblemished by anger and resentment for the god. Alfred looked exactly the same as he did over a millennium ago down to the flecks of gold in his endless blue eyes. Not for the first time the god's heart ached. As he watched the boy grow into a man, Britannia waited, agonized and with baited breath for the moment he would anointed him his favored once more. But it wasn't so easy. His knight this time around was different. He was stubborn and temperamental, and the only face he showed the god was one of seething antagonism. If it weren't for the sake of salvaging the Alfred he used to know, Arthur would have disposed of this impertinent mortal long ago. 

The Alfred Britannia knew long ago... he was lovely. He wrote poems and sang ballads in his name. He followed the god to the ends of the earth and beyond. Alfred was his favored, his most loyal servant. And Britannia loved him. 

But then Alfred died, cheating Britannia out of his love's existence. Britannia waited many a lifetime for their next meeting. But this new Alfred remembered nothing of his former life, nor did he possess the same ardent devotion he once had. This Alfred was so far removed from his former self that Britannia was beginning to wonder if the hope and subsequent disappointment was worth it. 

Arthur shook his head gravely, watching the sleeping man. Nothing betrayed his face. "Fool. I brought you here to the first place we made love. It was in the middle of the lake, precisely where I asked you to go." The god looked up; grey clouds were cloying in the darkening sky, a reflection of his heart.

~

Alfred woke up in a shock he looked around for Britannia only relaxing when he realized he was alone. Again Britannia had nearly killed him and let him live, Alfred couldn’t understand why. In all the tales and every experience Alfred could recall Britannia would sooner destroy those who opposed him than grant mercy. The will of a god was much too confusing for Alfred to try and reason with and so he counted each time he survived a blessing. 

Alfred slowly stood up brushing off the dust and dirt from his leather armor. The sky had grown darker and the area around him had lost its mystical sheen, but now Alfred let his curiosity get the better of him. He slowly approached the lake wary of any faerie circles in the area. Nothing about the lake stood out nothing to make it special it was just another body of water. “Why was he so insistent that I get water from here?” He pondered aloud to himself.

Alfred bent down by the lake side visually examining the water; he grabbed a nearby stone and threw it in the lake watching the ripples until they faded. Everything seemed normal. Alfred reached down and dipped his fingers into the water it was strangely warm for being so close to winter. Alfred shrugged his shoulders and brushed it off as a hot spring of sorts. He cupped his hands so he could splash some water on his face to clean off the grim of three days travel, but as the water hit his skin Alfred flinched and fell backwards as though the water scolded him.

//“Hnn A-Alfred. So good.” Arthur kept his thrusts at a steady pace aiming just right so that he drove Alfred half mad with lust.

“A-ahh B-britann-” Alfred panted he held tight to the grassy bank his legs growing weaker with each thrust they would have given in long ago if I weren’t for Britannia holding Alfred up by the waist.//

The brief vision horrified Alfred. ‘What the hell did Britannia do to me? He must have drugged me or tried to wipe my memory. I would never willingly let him do that. I would never let him touch me with his blood stained hands.’

It was near dark now but Alfred wanted nothing more to do with the lake. He would rather face the dark woods alone than stay where Britannia could try something like that again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So Alfred is Alfred, but he is not Britannia’s Alfred and therefore Britannia gets easily upset by this new Alfred. If Alfred starts remembering his past what dramas are about to unfold? Anyways reviews are always loved and I will see you guys next Wednesday. Until then…


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Violence/Gore

Britannia didn't summon Alfred for months. It was their longest absence from each other since the day Britannia saved Alfred's life. But it wasn't to last, as one sunny day in Spring Britannia returned bearing news that would start the beginning of Alfred's trial as Britannia's chosen mortal. 

Britannia chose the inopportune time of Alfred's bathing to drop in. "Good morning, sir knight." Alfred was in a bath house of the city the knight was taking small jobs in. The man was fresh from his bath, buck naked and about to change into clean clothes. Like all the times before, the humans around them were oblivious to Britannia's divine presence. 

Britannia was sitting primly on the bench. He leaned back on his hands, the strap of his garment suggestively drooping off his shoulder. The god flicked his eyes up and down Alfred's nude figure appraisingly, the tip of his tongue curling over his lips.

Alfred yelled in surprise before quickly covering himself like a maiden caught unaware. Spectators were already looking curiously in his direction forcing him to quickly grab his clothing and went to quickly dress in one of the spare rooms offered by the establishment.

Britannia calmly watched Alfred scamper off like a bat out of hell. If Alfred thought a wall could relieve him of a god, he was sorely surprised when he found that the room he escaped into was preemptively occupied by Britannia waiting for him. Alfred turned to flee again. Before that could happen, the knight's legs gave out from under him, and he collapsed into a heap on the floor. 

"No one can help you. They don't know you're here," the god drawled out boredly. From the prison of the spare room Alfred watched helplessly as the men carried on oblivious to what was happening. Until Britannia bid it so, Alfred existed outside the earthly realm and was beyond his fellow man's limited perceptions.

Alfred turned over and used his clothes to cover his nether regions. He began to shout at Arthur while pointing at him, “You- you stay away from me you fucking pervert! I don’t know what the fuck you did to me at that lake but you sure as hell won’t touch me like that again!”

For a moment Britannia had hope-- but no, if his knight remembered the lake then he surely wouldn't hate it. There was nothing about that memory that would evoke unhappiness. Was it Ivan's doing? Britannia's temper raged, but for now the only outlet he had was Alfred. He'd deal with Ivan later. "You forget yourself, knight. I will not be the target of baseless accusations." Alfred had no right to doubt or suspect his god of anything. Devotion was pure and blind. 

Britannia could already sense the tired argument coming on. Alfred was outraged about a triviality and Britannia would hackle over the challenge to his divine authority. Britannia scoffed and looked away, deciding to wait out the mortal's tantrum. "How tiresome you are," he muttered unhappily, refusing eye contact. Times like these hurt too much to look. He waited so long for his knight to return to him, watching over him and blessing him with this thing and that. He should kill Alfred and be done with it. He was beginning to hate his memories of Alfred for what it did to him, the present contaminating the past.

“Baseless my ass. The second that water hit my face that memory decided to give me a show.” Alfred raged not caring that he may again anger the god before him. “Now whenever I try to remember how you tricked me not once but many times into that I get a god awful headache and-” Alfred held his head in one hand trying to make the pounding disappear through shear willpower. 

Alfred calmed slightly as getting angry and yelling only ever succeeded in making his headache worse. He sighed and finally spoke again, “Just tell me what you need done Arthur and leave my head is killing me.”

"What did you call me?!" Britannia bolted out of his seat and closed in on him with a savage look in his eye. "Answer me!" He kicked Alfred's stomach. He rolled Alfred onto his back and clenched his jaw in a steel grip, forcing him to look. "How do you know my name?!"

Alfred was still reeling from the blow to his stomach as Arthur screamed at him. ‘What now?’ was all Alfred could manage to think as Arthur crushed his jaw in his grip. He had never seen the god this angry it scared Alfred for good reason and caused the knight to do something he rarely did, panic. “I-I don’t know! I- I- it just felt right. I’m sorry. I won’t say it again.” Alfred struggled against the agonizing grip only hurting himself more in the process. Every instinct in his body was telling him to get away. He had to get away.

Britannia scoured Alfred's face for deception. Alfred couldn't have possibly heard it anywhere but from Britannia's own mouth. No entity, not even the gods, knew Britannia's sacred name. To know a god's name was to know them entirely. Britannia shared his name with only one soul in the eons of years he came into being. 

"Tell me what you saw in your vision of the lake. Speak quickly."

Alfred was quick to obey still shaken up by the god’s sudden anger. “I- we were in the lake and you were fucking me. We- we-” Alfred squeezed his eyes shut as his head pounded in searing pain. “No wait it wasn’t the lake it was a cabin, no it was the woods, wait I- I- I don’t-” Alfred's nose began to bleed from the mental overload of forcibly remembering his past life.

"Enough, boy." Britannia touched his cool hand to Alfred's forehead. Immediately the searing pain lifted. The knight looked ready to collapse from exhaustion, but Britannia wasn't done with him. That it should happen now of all times. Since the beginning, every quest and trial and riddle he subjected Alfred to (with increasing rancor on the knight's behalf) were attempts to enlighten memories of his past life with Britannia. 

The god looked at Alfred for a long time. Like countless times before he traced the features of Alfred's face like a meditation to banish his doubts away. He finally blinked out of his revere and frowned. He didn't know what to do with himself in light of this revelation. This was what he wanted, but now it unsettled him. "When I look at you, talking to the peasant folk with the respect for a noble, or tending to the needs of your horse before you think to retire to bed, it is as if my memories gave life. But when you look at me, the dream dies. Once you looked at me with the naive love of a mortal. Now, it is only reckless hate. Is Fate so cruel that it would return everything beautiful you offered the world but the one thing the god who willed you back to life needed?" His voice was soft with unfathomable sadness reaching longer than a human could ever imagine. Still, he did not cry. "You remind me of what I want so badly and cannot have."

Britannia stood up. "On the next full moon you will have your first battle with my opponent's chosen warrior. I will not accept anything short of victory." The god retreated, and as he passed the threshold, the world returned around the knight.

Alfred had little more than two weeks time to prepare, but he would fight and he would win. He had sworn an oath to do so regardless of his feelings, as muddled as they were. One minute he was sure his death was eminent and the next the god would sooth his pain and treat him like a precious jewel. Alfred didn’t understand, but he was sure it must have something to do with the memories Alfred couldn’t place and why Alfred referred to Britannia as Arthur. Alfred sighed and fought past his weariness in favor of preparing for the coming battle. 

.oOo.

Alfred sat on a log outside of town knowing full well that Arth- Britannia, yes that Britannia knew where he was. Alfred didn’t know what type of weapon he would be allowed to use or if he would even be allowed to wear armor, so he prepared for everything as a worst case scenario. His weapons had been sharpened, his armor had been polished, and even his clothes were new in favor of impressing the gods by first appearance and then later skill in battle. 

Alfred sighed and looked around he didn’t know what time Britannia was going to arrive, but he was sure the god must be late. The sun was already beginning to set allowing a few stars to come out and gaze down at the world below. Alfred just wanted to get this over with if he was lucky the opponent would be overwhelmingly strong and he would die in battle, a battle which even Arthur was not allowed to revive him from. At least if he died than his conflicting feelings would die with him. 

Recently Alfred would find his mind wondering towards the god more often than normal. At first he brushed it off as nervous anticipation for the coming battle, but it was more than that. Alfred dreamt of the god caressing him as gently as one does with a lover, kissing Alfred with a gentle smile on his face, even making love in the quiet of the night Arthur panting and moaning beneath Alfred clinging to him and whispering wonderful confessions of love. Alfred buried his face in his hands, really he was letting his imagination get the best of him. That’s the only explanation that made sense so Alfred stuck with it.

A lyrical voice spoke inside Alfred's head, nasally and proud. "My goodness, if it isn't /petite/ Alfred." The god of love stepped into Alfred's peripheral and circled around him like a shark. He returned to standing right before him, the god touching his fingers to his chin in thoughtful contemplation. "It appears the mortal doesn't recognize me."

"Of course he doesn't, you fool." Britannia stepped into view, crossing his arms. Francis turned uninterestedly toward Britannia. "The imbecile was foolish enough to fall for Ivan's deception, so of course he'd fuck up again." Francis tut-tutted disapprovingly and went on as if Alfred wasn't there.

"Yes, it was rather thick of him to believe Ivan," Francis agreed. "Ah, but love makes us do foolish things." The god of love scrutinized Alfred with fascination. "But I fear, mon ami, that it is you who the foolish one."

Alfred baulked a bit at the sudden presence of not one but two gods. Alfred's hand twitched towards his sword before relaxing a bit noticing that Arthur didn’t seemed agitated with Francis’ presence above a mild annoyance. “And why would you call him foolish?” Alfred asked nervously curious, Francis held a look in his eye that suggested he knew much more about Alfred's thoughts than the knight cared for him to.

Francis breezily ignored the knight. He continued chastising Britannia. "Perhaps he will recover his memories, non?" Britannia cut his eyes away from Francis, wary of divulging too much to Francis and Alfred. Yes, it seemed Alfred's memories were returning, but his feelings for Britannia weren't. Remembering wasn't the same as reliving the past, as Britannia was learning. As an immortal his grasp on death and transition was abstract. Of course he would miss the details. Not like he would admit it. 

"Enough, Francis. Where is your champion?"

"She is waiting in the arena. Shall we?" 

The world around them fell away bit by bit, the vision of nature and sky shattering like shards of glass and falling away. When it was over they were left in a void surrounded by blue flames marking the perimeter of a fighting pit. A young woman was waiting at the center. As the gods and Alfred appeared, she rushed over to Francis and kneeled with her head down and helmet tucking in her arm. Francis smiled as she kissed his hand. Alfred realized this woman was a mortal whom the god of love gifted with eternal youth, and her years as his champion were long.

Alfred turned on Arthur harshly whispering, “Surely you can’t be serious. You expect me to fight and kill a woman? Excellent warrior she may be, but my mother raised me better. Ar-” Alfred stopped himself quickly not wanting to suffer another beating for merely calling the god by his name. “Britannia, must I kill her?”

A thick eyebrow lifted up his forehead. Alfred from before had asked the same thing about other female champions. "Do not let her gender deceive you. She has killed many men and women in Francis' honor. It's quite irritating really, how long she has lasted." He shrugged his shoulders primly. "It ends here." 

The woman took up her sword and shield and returned to the center of the ring. Donned in full armor of polished silver, it was also inlaid with an intricate network of gold vines enchanted to further protect her. She slipped the blade under her shoulder, one of the few areas of vulnerability, and slit her flesh. Blood pooled over the blade and on her shield, igniting them with fire that burned down the entire shaft of the blade and along the front of the shield. She waited at the ready for Alfred, body loose and ready to attack.

Alfred gulped, “You could have mentioned enchantments were allowed. I would have brought more than just a sword and a shield.” Alfred quickly fastened his breastplate to his chest ensuring all the weak points in his armor were securely sealed. Then he tugged on his gloves, secured his shield to his arm, and picked up his sword. “The hell did I get myself into.” He muttered under his breath. “Have any advice or quick enchantments that will ensure I survive at least a full minute in the ring.” Alfred joked morbidly.

Britannia sighed like one would to a tiring child. The god motioned with his finger for Alfred to come to him.

Alfred looked at Arthur skeptically for a moment before doing as the god silently commanded. Alfred stood before him helmet under his arm with a bemused smirk on his face.

Britannia curled one finger under the top of Alfred's breastplate and drew him down with surprising strength. Their lips connected, Britannia taking Alfred's surprise for the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Power flooded Alfred's senses, and for a moment he reeled as the onslaught of their connection overwhelmed him.

Once the power began to level within him Alfred could feel Arthur pull away. In that moment Alfred wasn’t sure what came over him, but he grasped the back of Arthur's head and pressed their lips together once more returning the kiss as deeply and passionately as Arthur just had. Alfred pulled back and smiled a sheepish grin, “For luck.” He hastily explained before rushing off to the arena.

Britannia stared after him in awe. He almost lifted his fingers to touch his lips but caught himself just in time to make a fist and cough into it. He had the misfortune of catching Francis' eye, and the other god smirked and winked. Britannia brightened and quickly looked away.

Alfred placed the helm on his head before he stepped into the arena. The blue flames grew in height preventing either champion from leaving the ring until one was dead. Alfred slowly approached the other champion wary of any sudden moves. “Good day m’lady. I have heard of your skill you shall be a fearsome opponent.”

The other champion’s guard was still up but she smiled ever so slightly, “As I have heard of you, Britannia’s latest investment. I do wish you luck in your first battle. You’re going to need it.” As she finished speaking a gong sounded signaling the beginning of the match.

She sprinted forward aiming for a quick kill by catching her opponent off guard, but Alfred dodged out of the way at last minute his armor weighing nothing to him thanks to Arthur's added strength. “Woah there ever heard of fighting like nobility?” Alfred bowed keeping his eyes on his opponent; she did nothing but glare at him. Alfred smiled knowing she had been hardened through years of combat, “And now we begin. On guard.” 

Francis breezily cozied up besides Britannia, his eyes trained on the fight. "You do Alfred no justice giving that meathead more muscle. He's all brawn and no brain. My Joan D'Arc is as swift and clever as a fox. Look at her go." Just like Francis said, Joan evaded Alfred's onslaught with speed and grace, parrying when need be, but calculatedly staying on the defensive.

Britannia frowned. Joan was biding her time, learning Alfred's patterns and weaknesses. If Alfred didn't get a blow in soon, he'd have a much harder time dodging her strikes than landing one on her.

It happened in a split instant. In one moment Alfred was going blow for blow swords clashing with Joan as she defended her ground when suddenly she turned on him forcing him on the defensive. All it took was a single fumble and she quickly landed a blow to his helm followed by an elbow to his back causing him to land face first on the ground. 

His head smacked the floor with such force that Alfred blacked out and it seemed like the end had come all too soon to Alfred's first match, but just as Joan was about to land the final blow Alfred's leg shot out sweeping Joan’s feet out from under her. Alfred sprung up and back flipped away from Joan with much more finesse than Arthur had come to expect from this new Alfred. He shook himself off as he got back on his feet before quickly removing the helm that now did little more than block his vision. Joan was quickly getting back on her feet when Alfred rushed her with the experience of a seasoned fighter he mercilessly attacked keeping the other champion off balance. 

Britannia's heart seized in terror as Alfred fell. Francis forcefully held him back as Joan d'Arc arched her sword in the air like a flaming Phoenix for the finishing blow. No one expected the counter kick sweeping Joan off her feet. Alfred returned on the offense, and it was all Joan could do to block and evade the deadly blows the knight assaulted her with. Her attempt to knock Alfred backwards by bucking her shield into him was deflected, and she just barely ducked under a high sweep that would have decapitated her.

Alfred saw that she was too seasoned and honest a fighter to use normal methods against her so he decided to play dirty. He stumbled in turn giving Joan the opportunity she needed to regain the upper hand. Alfred smiled to himself as her sword came swiping down at him and at the last possible moment he dodged while swiping his sword up cutting off Joan’s sword hand.

Francis cried out for Joan as the woman reeled in agony and disbelief at the turn of events. She fell to her knees gawking in horror at her dismembered limb. She slowly looked up and watched as Alfred stood before her swinging his great sword above his head. Then, she looked at her patron god, sadness and shame in her wide eyes as the last moment they shared together was of her failure to him. Francis was helpless to act but could not tear his eyes away. 

Britannia smirked and eagerly waited for the carnage to unfold.

“Goodbye, sweet maiden. I wish you a peaceful next life.” Alfred smiled sweetly before swinging his sword down and lopping off the girl’s head watching her head and body separate as they fell in different directions. Alfred then turned and faced the gods as was edict; he bowed deeply and awaited the results to be announced though it was clear to everyone present who the winner was.

Only one god stepped forward to receive the victor. Francis stood still as stone as Britannia passed through the flames untouched, clapping slowly in amusement. Pride gleamed in his eyes and smugness edged his smirk. The god stood by his champion's side and pivoted toward Francis awaiting the god's verdict as was customary for the losing god. 

Francis continued to stare at the lifeless eyes of his fallen champion. The defeated god slowly lifted his head, and Britannia could see his haunted eyes through his disheveled hair. 

"Alfred F. Jones, servant of Britannia of the Skies, I acknowledge you as the slayer of Joan d'Arc and champion of the duel."

Alfred rose, standing tall with a triumphant smile on his face. “Thank you it was a good fight. I shall have to write a ballad in her honor for such valiant effort and skill.” He bowed once more then looked towards Arthur laughing lightly before sweeping the god up in a hug spinning him around a few times before dipping him for a kiss. 

Britannia's eyebrows ticked in confusion. The talk of ballads was unlike this Alfred who had never performed in his life. The knight's spontaneous swordsmanship was also reminiscent of Alfred's past self. The god yelped in surprise and outrage as he was spun in the air, but when Alfred kissed him he yielded completely, looping his arms around his champion's neck and moaning. Oh... He kissed just the same, too. 

The kiss turned frenzied as he poured all of his yearning and desperation and hope into the kiss. Alfred came back... he was finally back... for the first time in a thousand years Britannia felt like crying.

Alfred smiled into the kiss as Arthur became more frenzied. He slowly righted them so Arthur wasn’t dipped backwards. Alfred slowed the kiss down into something much more heartfelt and emotional; he brought his hand up to wipe the tears from Arthur's eyes that had started dripping on Alfred's cheeks. “Come now. My kiss can’t have been that bad.” Alfred murmured as they broke apart, he gently ran his fingers through Arthur's hair. 

“Gods, you’re just as beautiful as always. I wish I could stay here with you for all eternity,” Alfred gently kissed the tip of Arthur's nose, “But alas my love I must go.” Alfred brushed the back of his hand against Arthur's cheek.

"Don't leave me," Britannia begged pleadingly and cupped his champion's--his true champion's-- face in his hands. More tears came to life, but they were born out of grief and the unfairness of an impossible love. "I waited, and waited. You couldn't fathom how long I waited, my dearest. When you died, my heart died with you. Give me back my heart. Stay with me."

“I shall my love but not in this conscious. This new me, give him time he is still quite young and confused by everything that has been thrust upon him. He is more like me than you may even realize.” Alfred smiled lovingly at Arthur gently stroking the other’s hair. “Whenever you look at him, don’t try to look at me; see him for who he truly is. You may be surprised by what you find.” 

Alfred slowly kissed Arthur pouring forth every tender ounce of love he held for his god. “My dearest, know that my love for you bleeds through every possible incarnation. I love you, and given a chance you will come to see this new me loves you as well. Be well my love.” Alfred gently pecked Arthur's lips one last time before collapsing against Arthur his body going limp.

The scene had long since returned to the countryside. Britannia held his love close, eyes closed and pushing out everything that wasn't Alfred. He would try to see his present life, but for now he mourned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Poor Arthur what he wants is so close but he isn’t allowed to grasp it. Whatever will happen next? Does this new Alfred truly bare the same loving feelings as the old or is there some deeper meaning behind the past incarnation’s words? Until next time…


	4. Chapter 4

When Alfred woke, he was lying under a glade with his head in Britannia's lap. The god was idly stroking his hair and looking up. He appeared to be listening to something invisible to the mortal's eyes. The god rolled his eyes and flicked his limp wrist dismissively at whatever it was, turning his attention to Alfred. "You are awake. There is much talk about my victory to Francis. The poor sod is heartbroken over his human." He chuckled, not in the least compassionate for his fellow god.

“The hell?” Alfred looked up at Arthur confused. “The last thing I remember is being struck upside the head and then passing out. How the heck did I manage to win?” Alfred brought his hand up touching the area the he was referring to, wincing at the impressively sized bump on his head.

Britannia shrugged airily. "Divine intervention." He shrugged airily at Alfred's proceeding annoyed face. "To be frank, your former self assumed control and decapitated Joan d'Arc's head."

“Former self?” Alfred cocked his eyebrows in confusion. Alfred threw his arm over his eyes, “Ugh I think I hit my head too hard.”

"Hm." Britannia leaned back on his hands. In the aftermath of almost every duel he would take Alfred to the enchanted copse and bathe his wounds with the water he blessed himself. As little as a sip could revitalize one to full health, and Alfred had immensely enjoyed Britannia's doting attention on him as a reward for his deeds. 

Britannia took his water skin, whispered a few words and handed it to Alfred. "Drink this." Just a little at a time the god would test Alfred's promise to him.

Alfred pulled his arm away from his eyes looking at the water skin curiously before shrugging and obeying his god. At the first sip Alfred startled having expected the pure taste of water yet instead receiving a crisp honey apple taste. He raised his brow inquisitively but continued taking small sips at a time the pain from his head slowly fading as he drank. 

“What was that?” Alfred asked as he handed back the near empty water skin to Arthur. 

Britannia ran his cool fingers through Alfred's sweaty hair, loosening the slick helmet hair between his fingers before taking back the water skin. "Does it matter? It feels good, it tastes good, and I gave it to you." He leaned over the mortal, face inches away. "I reward my champion after every victorious battle. What does my little mortal wish?"

Alfred smile bemusedly, “Well that is a most difficult question to answer. What may I wish for?” Alfred brought his hand up and gently stroked Arthur's hair. “Certainly you are capable of most anything and yet I am but a simple man with simple desires. A simple thank you shall suffice.”

Britannia's smile shined, the emerald of his eyes shimmering. Their noses touched, a tender caress as the god pressed his lips to the apple of Alfred's cheek. "Thank you, gentle knight," Britannia murmured with a teasing smile lilting his words. His sweet breath ghosted over his face. "For braving death..." he kissed Alfred's chin, "and defending my honor..." a kiss on the brow, "to return me to my rightful seat as one of the Nine." With utmost tenderness and love he kissed his eyelids, one and then the other. He kissed everywhere but his lips; there, he danced his fingertip over the soft, pillowy skin.

Alfred lay still as Arthur peppered his face with kisses; it felt strange how quickly his relationship with the god had changed. Not two week prior they would have wanted each other’s heads on silver platters and now here they lay in the open glade acting as if they were lovers. Yet regardless of how strange it seemed to him it felt… right. It felt as though they had done this a million times in a life time so long ago… Alfred's eyes opened wide, ‘past self.’ That must be what Arthur sees in him. He doesn’t see Alfred for what he is now. He sees Alfred for what he was lifetimes ago. Just like that the spell was broken for Alfred; the peaceful serenity of the glade faded away and left in its wake the cold harsh truth. 

Alfred slowly sat up trying not to alarm Arthur to his sudden realization: he would never be good enough for the stubborn, wrathful, asshole of a god who could also be so sweet, kind, and caring. Arthur, Alfred recalled, had saved him from the battle field, gave him the necessary strength so his past self could beat Joan, cared for him now as he recovered from the aftermath of his uselessness. Arthur would mend his wounds, laugh so beautifully, kiss him so tenderly, hold him dear as they made love, cling to him as Alfred was allowed to take control. All of it seemed so real… because it truly had happened, but so long ago, before Alfred's parents had even been born. All of the sweet tenderness he experienced now was the lingering affections for his past self. 

Alfred bowed his head staring at the grass before him did Alfred even truly like Arthur in the slightest or was that the influence of his past self as well. He no longer knew, and he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to know the truth. Because if his feelings now were a lie, than what since he met Arthur could be considered truly him?

Ignorant of Alfred's enlightenment, Britannia leaned back with Alfred, loving eyes never wavering from his face. "Come here," he whispered as gently as the spring breeze. He lifted Alfred's bowed head and kissed him.

Alfred allowed the god to press their lips together but felt uneasy at the contact. Alfred pulled back after a moment, he looked Arthur in the eyes trying to understand what those emerald eyes saw when they looked at him. Alfred sighed bowing his head again before asking, “Who am I? Who do you see me as? I… I just don’t know if this any of this is just my memories trying to change who I am or if this is really what I want. Truly, Britannia, who am I to you?”

The light in Britannia's smiling eyes dimmed, and all emotion fell away from his face. He slowly pulled away, taking the warmth of his body with him. "Yes, Alfred. When I see you, I am looking past you and between the cracks at someone else, who you used to be. My beautiful champion, who fought for me and loved me for hundreds of years, but you are not him. You are cruel to do this to me. How could you possibly live up to that?"

“I know I can never live up to that, hell I needed his help to even survive my first fight.” Alfred stood up looking down at Arthur. “But it wasn’t until after that fight, until right now that you started treating me like something worth more than dirt! Did you get the chance to talk to the old me? Are you waiting for him to reappear again, hoping that treating me nicely will make him come to the surface more quickly?!” Alfred felt confused angry tears well up in his eyes. Nothing made sense anymore all him memories were a jumbled up mess he couldn’t tell which ones belonged to present or past him. He couldn’t even tell why he was so upset. Because Arthur didn’t notice him for who he is now or because he knows that he’s a failure of a champion living in the shadow of a greater past life.

Britannia stood and fluttered a head above Alfred. He would not be looked down on by anyone. "Don't be daft. I treated you perfectly. Really, only /you/ would complain about walking in a forest in front of a naked god in an enchanted glade." He rolled his eyes. Such a selective memory. "Do you remember the bathhouse? You ran /away/." The god frowned, pouted even. He wasn't as forthcoming to Alfred at the beginning; it wasn't until he opened his heart to the human that he showed his wicked, lascivious nature.

Alfred sputtered indignantly, “Of all the narcissistic, egotistical… You know what? Fine. I’m done here. As you can see no wrong in anything you do please refrain from contacting me unless you need me for another match. I need time to think all of this- this,” Alfred threw his arms in the air frustrated, “Whatever the hell this is, through.” Alfred turned and began walking away steaming from simply talking with Arthur, just like it had been before the memories of his past life began returning.

Alfred didn't get ten feet before flopping to the ground. Literally. His legs were gone, replaced by a long mer-tail with a fringe of fins at the end. It matched the color of his eyes but altogether useless on ground.

Alfred grunted in pain from having landed on his face, if he could stand at that moment he would have probably hit the god consequences be damned. Instead he lay face down in the dirt his new tail laying limp groaning and cursing the day he almost died on the battle field.

With a few sweeps of his wings Britannia was hovering over his hybridize creation. Alfred wasn't moving, so he lighted to his feet next to the human--merman, rather--and pet his golden hair. "Dear Alfred, where are you going? You can't escape a god."

Alfred swatted his hand away before pushing himself up so that he could look at Arthur. “Stop. Just fucking stop! I am aghast that my past self could even bare to stand by your side for ten years let alone hundreds. You are selfish, possessive, and a self serving bastard. If not for your pretty face people would flee upon your arrival, but I suppose you’d enjoy that. How I could even bring myself to think if just for a moment that I could care for you more than one should for their god? Go to hell.” 

Alfred spit in Arthur's face and wasn’t surprised when he felt the first blow to his cheek, he groaned in pain slightly but started to laugh. “Go ahead. That’s what you are, aren’t you. Just a violent prick who thinks he’s better than everyone else. No wonder they kicked you off the council even they could tell the position was getting to your head. No wonder the past me drank that poison.”

Britannia sighed lightly and delicately wiped the spit away. "My dear boy, Let me give you a little history lesson." He began slowly walking around Alfred, creating a perimeter around his prone body. He spoke thoughtfully. "Rarely does a human lead the course of history alone. He or she is guided by a Nine, and sometimes a lesser divine." He chuckled condescendingly and quirked his head to the side looking down at Alfred, "The music, the arts, architecture; everything beautiful, even war, is a gift from the gods to their mortal humans." Britannia hummed thoughtfully, positively simpering with pride on his past achievements. "I am hardly unique in my vanity. It is who we are. It is why we are great." He tapped Alfred on the nose. "I think I am better than everyone? You are mistaken. I /am/ better than everyone."

“If you are so great then take back your throne yourself. Surely such a great god doesn’t need the help of such a puny human.” Alfred's voice was soaked in sarcasm; he was becoming furious at the vanity of the gods. For such powerful beings they did little more than toy with the weak for their own amusement. Arthur may be powerful and he may have loved Alfred in a different lifetime, but Alfred as he was now would not stand to be treated as a toy. He would not bow down and kiss the ground his so called god walks on. His past self was pathetic to let himself willingly be treated like trash, tossed around for so long and willingly drink poison to protect Arthur from himself. And oh how he had failed. Arthur was nothing if not more twisted and violent than before. He was angry and wrathful his wicked ways that lost him his precious spot on the council were deserving of death. Alfred now, not blinded by his love from the past, could understand why the fellow gods acted as they did. Arthur was uncontrollable and not deserving of such power.

Britannia crossed his arms and calmly looked down at his fishy human. Alfred's obstinance was fruitless and Britannia patiently waited it out. "Oh, I freely admit I am vengeful and jealous. But I am also benevolent and forgiving. Kindness, cruelty-- My rewards and punishments are justly deserved. But, I wasn't always fair..." He trailed off, mind drifting to the past. He was once a cruel god, treacherous as the sea. But, all that changed after meeting one mortal human. "So do not be so quick to judge your past self, Alfred. You couldn't possibly understand what we had. I am cruel to you because you are cruel to me, and that's the way things are."

“Is that truly the way your mind works Arthur?” Alfred spit the gods name like an insult. “Is that why you would beat the past me for the smallest infringements? Because he was cruel to you?” Alfred shook his head more amused at Arthur's ignorance than anything. “If only you knew the truth. You would not hold your head so proud.”

"Don't be daft," Britannia snorted. He shifted uncomfortably and broke eye contact. "That rarely happened. I always healed you, didn't I? And I did it because I loved you. Having you by my side and a seat at the Nine was all I wanted, and Ivan took both from me in one fell swoop. I'll never forgive him."

Alfred barked a laugh, “Is that the story you know? Oh Arthur.” Alfred shook his head disbelief clear on his face. “It wasn’t Ivan. It was never Ivan. In fact, he was probably trying to protect you. He’s the one who told you wasn’t he? He took the blame.” Alfred's expression turned sad as he recalled memories that he barely had a right to own.

~

Alfred lay in bed Arthur curled against his chest sleeping soundly, after hundreds of years the god finally trusted his champion enough to sleep in his presence. Yet now it was Alfred who couldn’t sleep, he kept recalling the day’s previous events, the massacre created by the being who now slept so peacefully. He wasn’t like this before. Arthur's kindness had once outweighed his malice, but no longer. All the god’s newfound powers that kept him securely positioned among the nine were destroying him.

He didn’t want to do it. He knew it would hurt Arthur, but it was for his love’s own good. He had to do it. Alfred slowly broke out of the gods arms careful not to stir him too much lest he be caught. He got out of bed and sadly gazed upon the only love of his existence. It seemed like hours before he could tear himself away from the quiet of the bedroom, but ever so slowly he made his way to his bag. 

He had planned this just a few days prior and was careful of his thoughts around Arthur. The god couldn’t know or he would have locked Alfred up in order to stop him. He pulled out the vial filled with blackish liquid. Once he drank this he would have seconds left. Arthur wouldn’t have the chance to stop him.

Alfred drug his feet as he made his way to the small table in the room, the vial held so delicately in his hand. There was just enough wine for a mouthful leftover from Arthur's celebration just hours prior. Alfred uncorked the vial wincing as is made a slight pop, he grabbed the wine and poured in the contents of the vial. Slowly Alfred twirled the glass letting the two blend together as he stared at Arthur's sleeping form. Alfred gulped as he noticed the few beams of sunlight creeping into their room, he had no time left. “Be well my love.” He whispered a tear streaking down his face as he quickly downed the glass. 

This was all he could do to save him from the power that had long since corrupted his mind. After all, the only way for a god to lose their position of power is to lose their champion.

~

“If only you knew.”

"What are you talking about?!" Britannia snapped his head around and glared daggers at him. "Do /not/ test me. Ivan murdered you for my seat. That's what happened!" His hands balked into fists, and Alfred for the first time in this lifetime witnessed Britannia's usual golden aura become stormy and crackle with electric currents. The god was furious.

“You really want to know?” Alfred yelled right back knowing that if Arthur was going to kill him there was nothing he could do to stop it. So Alfred decided Arthur should know the truth no matter how badly it may hurt him. “I KILLED MYSELF!”

Britannia screamed right back. "You did no such thing!! Alfred would never, /ever/ do that to me!" The storm raging around himself was gathering. "Alfred was wrong. You are nothing alike!" Before Alfred could speak again, the god slashed the air and muted him. He was visibly struggling against inflicting anything permanent on Alfred's person; Britannia looked scared, terrified even, as if he had been expecting this all along. "Enough games. I should have known even I, Britannia, could not bring the living back from the dead. Alfred F. Jones, I herby strip you of your duty and privileges as my champion. Never call upon me. Even if you beg at the moment before your death, I will not come." 

Before Britannia was engulfed by the raging storm of his making, the last Alfred saw of his face was one of hatred and utter betrayal. Alfred's vision grayed at the edges, and then turned to black. He fell into unconsciousness even as the world changed around him to destruction and devastation.


	5. Chapter 5

When Alfred awoke he was alone and soaked to the bone from the thick rain that covered the land. His tail had split back into two legs; he was cold and needed to go find shelter. It took him two days to wonder out of the woods as the constant storm made it difficult to see anything in front of him. Once he finally found a town it was nearly impossible to find an inn that wasn’t full up, but he luckily found shelter in a barn. It was still cold and he was still wet but at least the wind wasn’t blowing him around and the rain couldn’t touch him here.

Day in and day out the storm raged the inn keeper was kind enough to let Alfred in for meals which went from three to two to once a day the longer the storm raged on. Alfred felt terrible knowing it was his fault; after all he was the one who angered the god. 

By the third week Alfred began praying to the gods to stop this storm. He prayed to every god he knew of except Arthur, he knew the angry god would never listen to him, not now or anytime soon. After weeks of prayers and starvation finally his prayers were answered if only in the slightest.

Alfred had barely lit the candles at the altar when a familiar, lilting voice broke the reverent silence. "My goodness, how desperate you must be to travel in this weather." From the shadows of his countryside shrine, Francis the god of love stepped into the light behind Alfred. He waved dismissively as Alfred hurriedly bowed, a smile gracing his lips. 

"You have caused quite a nuisance. Tell me, what /else/ do you desire to bother us with?"

“Britannia needs to be stopped. Obviously I cannot do that myself, but one of the nine could.” Alfred bowed deeply, “I know that you have lost your champion and at my hand no less, but I offer you my service in turn for your help.” Alfred looked up at the god ever so slightly eyes ridden with sadness. “Anteros you of all people should know the lengths to which humans will go to protect the people we love. If I must prevent Britannia from ever rejoining the nine to keep him safe than I willingly submit myself to your command.”

Francis sighed. Indeed, he did know. "You may not have noticed, mon petit, but the last time you gave Britannia a dose of your "tough love" you incited a natural disaster." What Britannia would do if Alfred defected to his side and fought against him...he couldn't imagine. Nothing very nice, he was sure. "I see the purity in your heart, but I have pressing matters to put before yours. Namely the survival of the human race. No deal." Francis shrugged, examining his nails. "Why don't you make nice with Britannia? Perhaps if you catch him at the right time he will bring back the sun and take you back." Making nice with Britannia was the most likely course. It was the opposite of Alfred's desires, but it was much more convenient for everyone else, god or no. "Endure it, non? It is just a lifetime. One that Britannia unnaturally prolonged."

“Fr- Anteros,” Alfred stumbled in his frustration nearly making the mistake of calling a god by his true name without permission. “You don’t understand. There is no making nice in this situation. Britannia has forbidden me to ever call upon him again. There is no possible way I can fix this by simply bowing my head and begging for forgiveness. I told him the truth damn it!” Alfred's being seemed to turn in on itself as he admitted his wrong. “I told him the truth of what happened to my past self. He will never forgive me for betraying him so. Please if you want this to stop as much as I do then we need to work together. The more battles he loses the quicker his power weakens. Please Anteros help me.”

Although Francis was gentle with Alfred there was steel behind his eyes. "It is not my problem to solve. But I will consider your proposition only after you have exhausted all resources." Francis smiled demurely as he looked him over. "You have not yet learned your lesson. Do not trifle with the gods. I do not give charity; you will pay something in return, Sir Alfred, and I expect you may not like it." Francis' smile sent shiver down Alfred's spine and he recalled what he did to Joan d'Arc. 

"Off you go now, little bird. Do not pester me until you've swallowed your pride and prostrated yourself to Britannia." With a sweep of rose petals and sweetness filling the air the god of love was gone.

Alfred stared at the spot which Francis had stood not second prior, he bore a defeated look and frustrated angry tears built up in his eyes. The anger steadily built until Alfred felt like he would explode. He screamed and cursed at the gods and their vanity he threw anything within arm’s reach making a mess out of the barn he resided in, until he eventually fell to his knees sadness overtaking his anger. Over the past weeks he had practiced building up a stronger connection to his past self trying to find anything that could help him right the situation, but he could find nothing except the painful love of a human for their god.

Alfred wiped his eyes before forcing himself into the praying position if what the other gods needed was proof that Alfred could not calm the now raging storm that now covered the world then he would prove it to them. “Britannia.” He started hoping for the reply that never came.

“Fine Arthur, be furious at me, but you are going to listen. Yes I killed myself, yes I know I hurt you deeply, but it was for your own good. Why can’t you see that? You were losing yourself in all that power. You were no longer the deity my past self had fallen in love with and it scared him.” Alfred paused for a moment collecting himself before continuing on. 

“Can you not see how the power drove you mad? You were once a beloved peaceful god though I doubt you can recall those memories now. Your lust for power is unchanged as is my mission to remind you of who you once were. Hate me never speak to me again, but do not harm innocents with your anger. Direct that at me, I will be the target of all your malice if that is what it takes to restore you to what once was your full glory. It is the least I can do to make up for the past.” Alfred looked up glancing around hoping beyond hope that Arthur would hear him and at least acknowledge him. After he waited a few tense moments of silence he sighed giving up for the night, he would try again tomorrow and continue to try as long as it took to save the humans in the land from the wrath of one angry god.

The storm raged on. Alfred ceaselessly labored to inspire sympathy in Britannia's heart, but his efforts were in vain. Rivers and coasts bloated and overflowed, flooding civilization like never before. Crops were destroyed, and cities and towns were underwater. Alfred begged for just one word with Britannia, and still he did not come. The mortal didn't even know if he chose to ignore it or was listening at all.

Alfred was beginning to get desperate he had tried everything he could think of even went to the places Britannia and his past self held sentimental value to, but nothing was working. People were dying and there was nothing Alfred could do and so he began to give up. Alfred started contemplating taking the coward’s way out perhaps his death would calm the god. Sacrifices to the gods that was something people did, though the sacrifices were now becoming much more frequent and desperate. People were sacrificing their first born children in hopes of appeasing the gods; insanity was descending upon the land.

Alfred sat at a table in the back of a pub he had used the last of his coin to purchase a glass of wine. He slowly sipped on it, being careful to leave at least one mouthful for the end. He reached into his pocket and gently rolled around the vial filled with blackish liquid, the sense of déjà vu was overpowering. Alfred was finally beginning to truly understand the desperation of his past self. The strange devotion and care held for a wrathful god that used him for enjoyment and tossed him aside once he was done. 

He sighed wearily before pulling the cap off the vial; he stared at the liquid a moment longer before adding it to his last mouthful of wine. Slowly he swirled the glass letting the two mix together. A single tear slid down his cheek as he repeated the words he had said a lifetime ago. “Be well my love.” Alfred hesitated a moment more before bringing the glass up to his lips.

A pale hand deftly plucked the glass from Alfred's fingers. It was followed by a lyrical voice as clear as silver bells. "Saving the best for last?" Britannia delicately swallowed the last gulp of wine and put the glass down. The god was sitting across from Alfred looking as splendid as ever, but upon closer inspection he was haggard; his immaculate wings were mussed, the gold of his hair tarnished, and the light seemed to have faded from his eyes.

Alfred was both delighted and saddened by the god’s sudden appearance. He knew anger would be the most logical emotion to jump to but he couldn’t bring himself to be angry at Arthur. “Arthur.” Alfred smiled lightly yet it did not reach his eyes, “I thought you said you would never come back, even if I was dying.”

"I'm not bound by my own promise." Britannia looked around with a droll face. Dressed in plain attire with no adornments, the god easily blended in with the pub folk if not for his unearthly beauty. Alfred was the only one who saw his wings. The god attracted quite a few stares, and Britannia positively glowed in the attention. He was a god; he existed to be worshipped.

Alfred sighed and leaned back against his seat his clothes were much too baggy on him after months of meager meals lacking in any nutrients. His cheek bones were far too prominent for such a youthful face, he looked very ill for one who was once so strong. “Of course not,” He muttered at Arthur's explanation. “Then to what do I own the honor of your wondrous presence, oh great and powerful Britannia?”

Britannia flicked his eyes back to Alfred. He propped his elbows on the table and perched his chin over his laced fingers. His face betrayed nothing as he regarded him blandly. "You tell me."

“Don’t look at me like that.” Alfred sighed wearily, “The world’s on its way to starving to death anyways. What’s cutting mine a few weeks short going to do to change anything? It’s not like you really care about me,” Alfred paused for a moment, “What was it that you said? Alfred was wrong; him and I are nothing alike? On the contrary I think we are very similar.” Alfred finally really looked at Arthur, “Wouldn’t you agree?”

"Oh, don't be morbid." Britannia traced the rim of the glass with a fingertip. "I know what you've been scheming. You mean to sabotage my return to greatness. How creative of you to ruin me further by defecting to Francis. Hmmm..." He hummed thoughtfully, closing his eyes. "Your deviancy was not shocking. I expected as much." After Alfred's encounter with Francis in the shrine, Francis immediately reported back to Britannia with the news of Alfred's defection. The god of love had no qualms lording it over Britannia's head.

“Oh darn and here I thought I had been so secretive about it, what with my screaming to the heavens and all.” Alfred rolled his eyes at Arthur irritated that the conversation was going nowhere. “Here’s what it boils down to Arthur: stop this eternal storm or I’ll kill myself. Even if that doesn’t bother you I’m still going to kill myself, after all I was cast out of your service therefore my life is my own to do with it as I please. You can’t control me.”

"Goodness, listen to you go. You sound like an honorary teenager." Alfred was boring Britannia with this tired conversation. It was old hat. Since the very beginning, Alfred bleated time and again about being under the fickle god's custody, and tonight's defiant rant was no different. 

"It never stopped you before," Britannia hissed through his teeth, his emotions betraying him at last. "You killed yourself. You were bound to me and you still took your own life. Your threats tire me, Alfred, and I have better things to do than listen to you throw a tantrum." Britannia stood; the conversation was over. "I gave you this last chance to return under my service willingly. You failed, my dear knight."

“I can’t wait for the day you come crawling back to me once your kin turn on you, only for me to spit your words right back in your face.” Alfred bit out angrily watching as Britannia disappeared from his sights not even acknowledging Alfred's words. “Just wait, one of these days you’re going to need my help again and when that time comes you can shove it. I’ll let you suffer just as you make these innocents suffer.”

Neither of them noticed the cloaked figure following after Britannia as he left. 

Outside in the torrential rain, neither rain not mud soiled Britannia's skin. As he ran his slender fingers through his dry hair, a golden light appeared at the crown of his head and revealed his true splendor as it cascaded down his lithe form. Smoothing out his white garb, he snorted to himself. "Don't miss me too much. I decide when it's over." The god looked up at the black clouds engulfing the sky in utter darkness. No one knew if it was day or night anymore. And no one ever will so long as he was the god of the sky and Alfred refused to see reason. 

"No, /I/ decide when it is over." Britannia whipped around to see the owner if the voice. The man who followed Britannia outside stood behind him. He, too, was untouched by rain.

Britannia frowned as the stranger pulled back his hood, unveiling the ageless face of the god of time. His skin was porcelain, and his long black hair was swept in a ponytail over a shoulder. His almond eyes gazed levelly back at Britannia. He bowed to his chest. 

"Yao," Britannia said politely with an edge of annoyance. He wanted to leave. 

"Well met, Britannia. Or should I call you... Arthur?" Britannia's eyes widened and he took a step back. Yao took a step forward. 

"L-leave me," he hissed. He bumped into something.

"We cannot do that. Not anymore." The figure Britannia bumped into clutched him around the chest in a vice. Britannia's joints went stiff and frozen as if encased in ice. It was Ivan, the god of Winter. 

"Come with us." Yao stepped forward. "You will face judgment before the Nine." He touched Britannia's face with gentle care. "Your deeds will not go unpunished."

"There is nothing you can do!" Britannia wrenched in the Winter god's arms but could not escape. 

"Oh, but we can," Ivan chimed in merrily. "We know your name, after all." He bent down to leer into Britannia's ear. "Arthur."

Britannia gasped, but all he could of was struggle fruitlessly as they disappeared from the Earthly realm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Whatever will happen next? This chapter is a bit shorter than the others and probably a bit rough around the edges but I was in a car accident last Friday so I’m still recovering from that next week’s chapter should be much longer. Until next time…


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Con into non-con

One month that’s how long it took for the rain to finally stop after Alfred had spoken to Arthur. It took even longer for the land to dry up enough to be capable of being farmed, but slowly the world went back to normal. Alfred went back to normal. He became a mercenary, a man for hire; it was the easiest way for a man of his skill set to earn money. Slowly though he began to settle down, years went by and yet not a day passed without at least one thought of Arthur. Alfred had done his best to move on accepting that he was no longer needed. 

Eventually he settled down in a small village only ever leaving his home when he was working on long quests. As much as Alfred loved the thrill and pull of danger he preferred to quiet of his own home now. Alfred would rather be hired to find someone’s cat than protect a noble from assassins. Alfred learned to enjoy the simpler things in life such as the sound of rain pounding against his roof during cool spring days or the quiet crackling of the fire during freezing winter nights. Everything was simpler now; everything seemed to have fallen in place. It was on one of those cool rainy nights that Alfred's peaceful life was once again interrupted, once again thrown into turmoil.

Alfred sat by his fire place enjoying the heat of the flame as he waited for his dinner to finish cooking, the smell of warm soup filled his small dwelling. He flipped through the pages of a book filled with fairy tales that he had bought thinking offhandedly Arthur would enjoy when they finally made up, but the god hadn’t returned in years so Alfred had given up waiting for a person who wouldn’t return. Alfred finally picked a story and began reading it; he got no further than the second page before he heard a knock at his door. Alfred frowned in confusion before getting up to find out what was so important that a person would brave the cold rain to get him for.

Alfred opened the door; a cloaked figure stood in the freezing rain, hood cast over the man's bowed face. All Alfred could see were his cold, pale hands clutching the cloak around his thin frame.

The stranger pushed back the soaking hood and looked at Alfred with familiar green eyes. 

"Hello, Alfred," Britannia said softly.

Alfred stood in the doorway staring at the god as though he were a ghost before instinct kicked in; he grabbed Arthur by the shoulder and pulled him inside. “What the hell were you thinking standing out there in the middle of a storm?” Alfred quickly pulled off Arthur's cloak hanging it so it could dry. “Hurry up sit by the fire; god or not freezing to death isn’t pleasant. Get out of those clothes,” Alfred said as he disappeared into his bedroom coming out moments later with some dry comfortable clothes. “What were you thinking you could have just appeared in my house if you wanted to drop by for a surprise visit?”

"Oh, but isn't that what you call poetic justice?" Britannia sighed as the last bit of soaking garment slapped to the floor. He kneeled by the fire and warmed his hands. Goosebumps prickled his skin, and Alfred could see him shivering from across the room. It was odd. 

Then, Alfred noticed other oddities. He thought Britannia was paler but realized that his ethereal glow had dimmed, barely perceptible in the firelight. It was almost gone. His emerald eyes whose beauty could not be matched by any mortal suffered the same affliction. And, most noticeable of all, his wings were tattered and filthy with the road.

"I'm hungry, Alfred. Share with me your supper." By the way he eyed Alfred's soup, the god looked famished.

“Sure, but what happened to you Arthur? I know you were angry with me, but you’ve been gone for years. Hell, I figured I’d probably never see you again. Not that I mind that you showed up now of all times, but…” Alfred had made his way over to Arthur handing him the dry clothes, his eyes were full of sadness as he hesitated to gently place his hand on Arthur's cheek. “You look sick.” Alfred gently rubbed circles of Arthur's cheek with his thumb, “Are you okay?”

Anger flashed in Britannia's eyes before he swatted the offending hand away. "Kind you should notice," he hissed icily. It took every ounce of willpower biting back a tongue lashing. Of course he wasn't okay! He ladled Alfred's soup into a bowl and sopped it in bread before eating. After a few sullen mouthfuls, he sighed regretfully. "I /am/ unwell." He held out his upturned hands and looked down at the pallid skin. He went on quietly, "I look like one of you... don't I?" He touched his face and gently traced his frozen blue lips and the tiredness under his eyes. He closed his eyes and sighed sadly. "I tire, and freeze in the cold, and grow hungry."

Alfred could tell something had happened to the god in their time apart something terrible, but as to what he was unsure. Alfred grabbed a blanket off the back of his rocking chair and threw it around Arthur's shoulders when it became clear the god had no intention of putting on more clothes anytime soon. “There that should keep you warm enough while you tell me what happened to you.”

Britannia stared off at nothingness, turning inward to his thoughts. "What is there to say? I've been cast out. Stripped of my divinity just short of mortality. It isn't unlike how you were once." In the lady life, Britannia granted Alfred eternal youth, but he was still susceptible to death. Arthur remained eternally young and could not perish, but he possessed almost none of the majesty and grandeur that made gods so terrible and great. "This has happened once before long ago to another god. Humans discovered him, and they imprisoned him for hundreds of years, bending him to their wicked will." Britannia shuddered and held the blanket closer. "If that happened to me..."

Alfred sighed as he stared down at the floor, “I can’t say that you wouldn’t deserve it, after all you did almost kill a good majority of the population a few times just for your amusement. Yes, you probably do deserve that type of fate, but I won’t let it happen. Perhaps it’s just my past self standing up for you, but I couldn’t bear to see you forced to live that life.”

"Hmm." Alfred's answer amused him. "The wretched things my Alfred says to me." He finished the soup and bread. He was still shivering, but the food and shelter was warming him up. He took Alfred's spare clothes and stood, the blanket pooling around his feet. Bushy eyebrows furrowed together as he turned the trousers this way and that, trying to make sense of the thing. He had only worn chitons and togas and the like, never caring for the vicarious fashions of humans like Francis and other gods. "What on earth...?" He slipped a trouser leg through his arm and scowled. This wasn't how it wore.

Alfred covered him mouth trying to stifle a laugh but failed miserably. He at least had the decency to look sheepish when Arthur glared at him though the expression no longer held the same power. “Come here I’ll help you.” Alfred offered as he watched Arthur struggle to figure out the enigma that was pants. 

Britannia heaved a great put-upon sigh. Rudely looking away, he held the trousers up with a limp hand for Alfred to take. The mortal helped him into the trousers and buckled him up. Britannia chose to remain shirtless because of his wings. The god's face pinched in a frown as he picked at the offending clothing. "Too big," was all he said.

Alfred looked at the sight of Arthur it was a bit amusing as the pants sagged on the god even with the belt pulled to the tightest loop. “Perhaps we’ll need to get you some smaller clothes at the market once this storm clears up. Though I’m not too sure about what types of shirts you would be comfortable with because of your wings.” Alfred placed a hand on his chin thoughtfully, “Hmmm maybe one of the more gender neutral women’s blouses would fit you better they have low backs.”

Britannia looked back and fanned out his angelic wings. They spanned 14 feet across, the tips nearly brushing the walls. Once as pure and white as a dove's, he longingly ran his fingers through the grey matted feathers before fading them out of existence. The times he magicked away his wings and blended with the human masses were for errands or playing tricks. Never before was it out of fear for his life. Wordlessly, Alfred helped him into the shirt. Britannia sat back down with the blanket tucked tightly around him, but it wasn't just to protect him from the chill in the air. Without wings or golden aura and clad in human attire, Britannia was still as pretty as a gem, but he looked like a perfectly ordinary mortal.

Alfred sighed sadly at how un-Arthur like the god was acting. He wanted to help him, but at this point Arthur had to work out for himself what he needed to do in order to fix things, but finding out who did this to Arthur couldn’t hurt. “So you said you were stripped of your magic right? Why? And who did it? Was it Francis? He seems like the type to pull something like this.”

Britannia abruptly stood up. "I'm tired. I want to sleep." He looked down to Alfred, eyebrow perching up. "Well?" He left for the bedroom and made himself at home in Alfred's bed. After settling himself around the covers he looked at Alfred expectedly. "Are you going to stand there like an idiot or come inside?" He held up the top of the covers for Alfred to slip in.

Alfred sighed at the way Arthur avoided the question it was almost predictable how the god acted. As Britannia fled to the bedroom, Alfred followed him standing in the doorway as the god made himself comfortable. “I’m not tired, but you go ahead and sleep you look like you could use a good rest. I’ll join you later after I actually get the chance to eat my dinner.” Alfred smiled softly as he quietly murmured, “Goodnight Arthur,” before heading back to the living room closing the door behind him.

Britannia waited until the door closed to growl in frustration and slam his face into the covers. He'd have to train Alfred to stop using his true name. That business was what caught him up in this mess in the first place. Deciding that sleep wasn't a bad way to wait for Alfred to retire for the night, the god fell into a light sleep, vigilant on Alfred's return.

Only Alfred didn’t return to bed that night. After he slowly finished his dinner Alfred sat in front of the fire place again gently rocking in his rocking-chair. Every time he felt the slightest twinge of exhaustion problem after problem and a thousand questions would come to the forefront of Alfred's mind. He stayed there in the chair maintaining the fire and letting his mind wonder long past the brightness of a cloudless sunrise.

Britannia slept far into the afternoon. It was the first night on the corporeal plane he felt safe, and he succumbed to exhaustion at last. He looked adorably bed mussed, hair sticking out and pants slanting over a hipbone, as he stepped into the living room yawning into a fist. He sat at the table and watched Alfred with his cat eyes, but said nothing.

“Sleep well, bed head?” Alfred asked off-handedly as he finished getting dressed in warm outdoor clothes. “I’m about to head into town for a few things you need anything besides more fitting clothes?”

Britannia continued staring at him, face clear of emotion. He looked calm, relaxed, but nothing was behind his eyes. He simply sat there at the table.

Alfred raised an eyebrow but decided to let it go. “I’ll take that as a no. I’ll be back in a while then. If you do go out, stay out of trouble. I actually like living here.” Alfred slung his empty bag over his shoulder before heading out the door. He couldn’t decide if Arthur was truly upset over the loss of his powers or just fishing for sympathy. More than likely it was a bit of both, Alfred shrugged not going to let it bother him until he got back to his house.

Britannia wasn't in the house when Alfred came back. After searching around the entire property (which wasn't a lot), Alfred found the god across the field on a grassy knoll. His fingers were crossed on his stomach lying on the warm grass looking up at the sky. He turned his head minutely when he heard Alfred approaching, but didn't call back.

Alfred stood next to Britannia looking down at him; he rolled his eyes at the silence he was greeted with. “Really you are going to ignore me? How mature of you.”

"I am not," he assured and held out his hand, bidding Alfred to join him. When the man hesitated, Britannia forced him down with strength that always surprised the man, and Alfred gracelessly tumbled to the ground next to him. Britannia settled back down, gazing at Alfred peacefully before looking back up to his former domain of rule. The sky was flawless, entirely devoid of clouds. It was as if the last of Britannia’s tyranny never came to pass. Britannia's fingers crossed with Alfred's. "How does it look?" he asked quietly.

Alfred quickly recovered from the initial shock of being pulled down; he looked over at Arthur as he spoke the sad tone of voice made Alfred frown. Before losing his powers Arthur would be up and ready to take on the gods all at once to make them pay for wronging him, but now he just seemed like a sad old man having lost everything and realizing there was no way to get it back. Alfred settled down and stared up at the sky completely interlacing their fingers, he gently squeezed Arthur's hand reassuringly. “It looks beautiful. It looks just like it always would whenever you would meet me in the meadows or by our lake. It makes me feel content just to lie here,” Alfred smiled and bumped his shoulder against Arthur's as he scooted closer to the god so that their sides were touching, “Maybe even take a little nap.” Alfred stretched and yawned, yes a nap did sound pleasant after a restless night.

A pang of nostalgia touched Britannia's heart. How could he forget? It was when Britannia loved Alfred and thought Alfred loved him back. It was a hundred years in Britannia's service that Alfred, Britannia's favored and champion, proved his devotion and worship was worth Britannia's heart. Never in all the ages of his existence did Britannia love anyone but himself, not even other gods. Alfred showed him how to love, and the god changed much of who he was for Alfred. He foolishly trusted Alfred to remain his lover and servant forever. "...and look at what's become of me," he finished his thought with a sigh. Britannia turned his attention back to Alfred as the man stretched. He took advantage of Alfred's exposed side and smoothed a flat palm over Alfred's stomach and chest. "Am I revolting now that I am fallen? Now that my likeness has changed to that of a plain human?"

Alfred laughed, not a mocking laugh, but instead a good natured laugh indicating he found the god’s question to be silly. “Calling you revolting would be like calling the trees that change colors in the fall hideous. Sure your strength has changed and you may not be able to use magic anymore, but that’s never mattered to me, to either of me really. You’re you, my cranky, self-serving, part-time asshole of a god. Nothing can change that about you.” Alfred rolled onto his side so he could better look at Arthur. He gently brushed the back of his hand against the fallen god’s cheek before adding, “Nor should you hate yourself for it. In fact it might be a decent reality check for you.” Alfred bopped his nose, getting up before Arthur could retaliate. 

“Come on its supper time and I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” Alfred held his hand out to help Arthur get up, a soft smile shone upon his lips.

Britannia let Alfred pull him up. Patting off the earth stuck to his clothes, he asked with a rueful chuckle, "You will not sell me for a bag of magic beans?" Before Alfred could reply he leaned up and kissed his cheek before heading back before him.

Alfred blinked his eyes owlishly slightly shocked at Arthur's behavior; he brought a hand up to his cheek and smiled. He shook his head huffing a laugh before following behind him murmuring under his breath, “You are worth so much more than some magic beans.”

"I trust you have decent clothes for me?" Britannia sat at what was becoming his usual seat. He propped his elbows on the table and rested his chin on the back of his laced fingers, watching Alfred through half-lidded eyes. A smirk quirked the corner of his lips. "Is that what you truly wish? Would you rather I continue wearing your clothes?" He traced a slender finger over his collar bone, catching the wide collar of Alfred's tunic and sliding it over his shoulder and presenting pale, flawless skin.

Alfred rolled his eyes before tossing the clothes at Arthur's face, “I think that if you’re ever going to pass as a normal human you’re going to have to learn sex doesn’t get you everywhere.” 

Alfred grabbed the supplies for dinner out of his bag and set to work making a simple meal for the two of them. He ignored Arthur's attempts at seduction by chopping up the onion he bought, hard to get aroused when your eyes feel like they’re burning. “I’m making stew for supper. Go get dressed, and by dressed I actually mean dressed. Naked folk don’t get supper.”

"I ate naked last night," Alfred heard him call from the bedroom. The god smoothed the tunic over his slender figure. It fit perfectly. "For a shapeless feed bag," he muttered miserably. He looked longingly at his toga, as white and airy as the clouds he used to rule. It was impractical now; too cold and too conspicuous near civilization. He crept back into the kitchen area. 

"Is it ready?" Planting his hands on Alfred's shoulders he peeked over at the stew. He nuzzled his nose against Alfred's neck, sniffing his hair. "Mm. Smells good."

Alfred shivered at the sensation of Arthur's nuzzling, but chose instead to answer his question ignoring Arthur's repeated attempts to distract him. “It take more than a few minutes to make stew. Why don’t you fill the pot up with some water and put it over the fire with some of the salted beef I got today. I’ll throw the vegetables in, in a little bit.” Alfred continued cutting the vegetables ignoring Arthur's obvious behaviors. “Oh I bought a few herbs and some pepper to go with it as well, add that to the water too.”

Britannia nipped the knob of his spine and snaked his arms around the man's trim waist. He gave it a tight squeeze. "Your body is as fit as the day I left you. Just as I remember it." He wasn't talking about Alfred's fighting prowess, if his wandering hands gave any hint.

Alfred groaned in annoyance, he put down the knife and grabbed Arthur's hands pulling them away from his body. “Arthur, no. I may have forgiven you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to fall back into the old routine.” Alfred turned around fixing Arthur a warning glare before firmly asking again, “Go get the water.”

Britannia deftly tapped back and held up his hands in mock surrender, an impish smile crossing his lips. "As you wish." He crossed to the water barrel like a good boy, pausing to flash another wicked smile when he caught Alfred's wary eye. With elegant grace he swayed his arms, the water in the barrel becoming waves rocking tumultuously in the old barrel. The god coaxed a crest of water to flow out and slither across the room in the form of a serpent and into the pot above the fire. Britannia followed after, and with a short zip of a finger the fire blazed to life.

Alfred shook his head at the god’s flashy display before going back to cutting up the vegetables. It was such a long time ago that they were last like this, but back then Alfred had bent to Arthur's will far easier than his present self. Perhaps it was better this way; hopefully Arthur now in his severely weakened state would realize not everything will always go his way. Alfred glanced over at the wine he had bought to go along with their meal and smiled as he recalled one of the many good memories that came with remembering his past life.

Arthur was drunk off both joy and alcohol, they had finally managed to defeat the last champion of the nine giving Arthur the power he always had wanted. It was an exciting time for both of them, in love and in control they were free to do as they wanted they were unstoppable. It was on that same night that Arthur finally relinquished some of his control to Alfred. He had developed enough trust to know Alfred would never betray him (at least at the time before the power started to drive Arthur mad). Alfred tinted slightly pink as he remembered the night in earnest, but was also glad Arthur didn’t have the ability to read minds anymore otherwise the god would think his victory was eminent. Though it probably was he never could deny the god what he so desired for long, it was that tenderness the god showed every so often that Alfred would do anything to see.

Alfred shook his head getting back to reality he took the chopped vegetables and put them into the pot before grabbing his favorite book to read sit and read in favorite rocking chair while waiting for dinner to cook. Deciding this time Arthur was going to have to try much harder before Alfred would even remotely crack on his decision to not give into the god’s whims.

Oh, so Alfred was going to play that game? Britannia rolled his eyes heavenward. What an unpleasant atmosphere. If Alfred was going to be doom and gloom, he'd rather be elsewhere. He crossed to the front door and pulled on his cloak. Without a word he left.

And he didn't return until supper was served. He slunk in just a quietly as he left, sitting at the table with no word as to where he had been.

They ate in silence both refusing to say the first word Alfred quickly finished his food and went to clean off his plate rinsing it off with recycled water. He placed the dish on a clean cloth before grabbing out a pair of glasses. Alfred poured two glasses of wine which he somehow managed to carry both the bottle and half full wine glasses to the table without spilling. Wordlessly he placed a glass down in front of Arthur and sat back down in his own chair slowly sipping at the ruby red liquid.

Britannia plucked the wine glass and held it to the dying firelight; mulling the drink around and inspecting it with a critical eye. A delicate frown touched his lips, but he tested it anyway. He put it down with a sigh. "Nothing like what we dined on before, is it?" He sounded more nostalgic than critical. "But nothing made by man comes close to the drink of the gods." His eyes flicked to Alfred.

Alfred hummed in agreement taking another sip before adding, “Perhaps it may not taste as enchanted and wondrous as your particular brew of drink but after a few glasses it does produce the same affects.” Alfred held a small smirk on his face as he glanced at Arthur catching the other’s gaze. “After all us mere humans (as you so like to call us) do enjoy the freedom and relaxation of having our inhibitions taken away.”

"When the cretins are not pleading to me in a drunken haze," Britannia examined his nails disinterestedly. He took another sip. "I am touched. Judging by your humble lifestyle and the quality of this wine, my return is quite the celebration.” He sat back comfortably and crossed one knee over the other, perked lips visible behind the glass.

Alfred laughed gently, “Must there be an occasion for me to get drunk in my own home? It is merely coincidental that you are here to join me while I drink. If you must know every worship day I drink instead of pray. My own little way of saying ‘fuck you’ to the gods who find it so amusing to play with human lives.” Alfred took a larger gulp of the wine as he slouched in his chair relaxing as the wine just barely caused his mind to fuzz.

"Drunks drink cheap wine." To illustrate his point, he made a show of taking a sip and then topped off both of their glasses. He would never drink cheap wine. "You shelter me and feed me, a god, but you are sacrilegious to spite the gods. Do you hate me or love me? Which is it, Alfred?"

“I despise you and your kind, Britannia.” Alfred replied with a dangerous glint in his eyes and a devilish smirk on his lips. He sipped at his wine a bit before continuing to speak, “Arthur on the other hand is another story. Sometimes I want to strange him and other times…” Alfred paused and looked at Arthur through his peripheral before staring back down at his glass taking a quick gulp of wine. “Well most of the time, I just want to strangle him.”

The chair nudged back as Britannia rose from his seat. He rounded the table and stood next to Alfred. He propped himself up on the table with his legs at either side of the mortal, taking up his field of vision. He let Alfred get used up his closeness before speaking. "I want to strangle you most of the time, too."

Alfred hummed in acknowledgement of Arthur, but hid his smile by keeping his glass against his lips. “Good to know we can at least agree on one thing, even if you have to throw your crotch at me to admit it.”

"And you said I can't solve everything with sex." He dropped into Alfred's lap, brushing aside the wineglass and linking his hands behind Alfred's head. Before Alfred could knock him off, the god kissed him deeply. Britannia melted into the kiss, moaning pleasantly as it went on and on.

Alfred allowed the god this much, but soon the kiss slowed due to Alfred's own unresponsiveness. “Are you satisfied?” Alfred asked once their lips parted the playful mirth that was in his eyes moments before was gone clouded over by sadness. “I won’t, no I can’t, go any further than this, not when I know your still seeing the old me when you look at me. Call me old fashioned but I want to only do this,” Alfred gently drug his hand along Arthur's thigh resting it on the god’s hip, “with someone who loves me for who I am now, not what I once was.”

"You are both," Britannia assured with conviction. He wasn't bothered or surprised by Alfred's rejection. He covered Alfred's hand over his hip with his own and dragged it up his chest. He pressed his palm flat over his beating heart, jade eyes unwavering. "I need it, too. So much has happened...you could not begin to fathom what I endured." He framed Alfred's face in his hands and touched their foreheads together. "Did you not think of me once these past given years?"

Alfred smiled warmly at Arthur's words. His skin tingled where Arthur touched he closed his eyes enjoying the sensation of simply being treated so gently. “Every single day,” he laughed gently, “some days more fondly than others.”

Britannia matched Alfred's smile, pleased with the mortal's admission. He touched Alfred's face as if he was made of glass and spoke in a reverent, hushed tone. "What did you think about?"

“Some days I would think about how I was going to strangle you if I ever got my hands on you, and others it would be a fleeting thought. I would see something in a shop or on a quest and wonder if you’d enjoy it, what you would do if I brought it back to you as a gift.” Alfred laughed awkwardly rubbing the back of his head. “That’s actually the main reason I bought all these books… You just took me for the reading type I suppose…”

"...You wished for my return?" Britannia was genuinely surprised. More awkwardness followed, and Britannia watched the blushing mortal mumble an affirmation under his breath. He didn't smile like one would expect him too. Instead, he continued staring at Alfred, bland-faced and closed off. Slowly, he brushed the back of his fingers down Alfred's cheek. "If I could believe you. Who would accept me as I am now?" The god looked panicked; not for the first time did he stare at his hands in muted horror. "I'm wretched and hideous. I have fallen. How I am now is /not/ what you fancied in your musings." He clutched his fists into a ball and squeezed his eyes shut.

“All the better, you as you are now is perfect.” Alfred brought the god’s fists up to his mouth and pressed a kiss to each knuckle, gently easing them out of fists. “Your power has never mattered to me; not now, not in the past. I care for you because of whom you are, not what you possess. The past me gave his life trying to make you realize that, though I admit it may not have been the most direct approach.” 

Alfred held both Arthur's hands in one hand and brought his now free hand up to stroke Arthur's cheek. He looked into the god’s now open eyes staring at the emeralds before him trying to will Arthur to understand. “You are the most beautiful, wondrous, imperfect being, I could have ever hoped for. So don’t you think for one more moment that your power means anything to me.”

Britannia clutched Alfred's hand so tightly his nails left marks on his skin. His face was naked with pain and anguish. "Alfred, I...I cannot return to my glade! It is my /home/, Alfred!" The god gritted his teeth and hid his head in shame. He never meant to cry. He never meant to share his pain with Alfred, either. In the hundreds of years in Britannia's service, Alfred had never seen him cry until now.

Alfred's eyes pulsed wide with shock never before had he seen Arthur cry. In fact, he had begun to think the god wasn’t capable of the act. Alfred hesitated a moment before wrapping his free arm around Arthur in a one armed hug. “I’m sorry.” Alfred didn’t quite know what to say he knew Arthur was sad and hurting, but there wasn’t much he could do to change the situation. “I wish you could go back there, I know it was a very special place for you.”

Although Britannia obscured his crying face with his fringe hanging over his bowed head, tears plunked on their closed hands. His thin shoulders shuddered with each brittle breath, and small whimpering sounds broke the stunted silence. Britannia's glade was a realm of his own making, and no one without his consent could enter. It wasn't until after he and Alfred became lovers was Alfred even privy to his small world. "I do not belong in the ethereal realm of the gods, nor do I belong amongst the humans in the corporeal realm." And neither did he belong in Alfred's heart, but Britannia wasn't about to say that.

Alfred gently petted Arthur's hair trying to calm him down before answer the god’s unspoken question. “And where does that leave me? I’m here now aren’t I? Did I try to take advantage of you when you came to me? If you can find nowhere else to belong, then stay with me.” Alfred sighed as he pressed a gentle kiss to Arthur's forehead. “I will do what I can to help you return to you glade, but I can’t guarantee we’ll be met with success. I will try though. So cheer up, okay?” 

Britannia breathed in a deep, fortifying breath and let it out. He dashed away the tears and sniffled before peering up at Alfred with watery eyes. It was exactly what he wanted to hear, but it was a small victory. "Yes," he said quietly. He kissed Alfred's chin, then his forehead, and then his cheeks. "How do you do that to me?" He didn't understand how Alfred could still hold such power over him.

“It’s my own special brand of human magic I suppose.” Alfred murmured quietly punctuation his sentence by a yawn. “It’s late we should retire for the night. We can begin searching for a way to get your glade back to you tomorrow.”

Britannia hummed a small sound of agreement but didn't rise from his perch on Alfred's lap. The crying spell took a lot out of him. He looked at Alfred expectantly.

Alfred stared at Arthur before rolling his eyes; he shook his head and laughed lightly. “You’re ridiculous.” Alfred held tight to the god as he stood up, almost dropping the god before catching his balance. “Don’t expect me to do this every night, today is special.” He walked into his bedroom and gently sat Arthur down on the bed before removing the god’s shoes. “Take your clothes off I have an extra night gown you can use.” Alfred began undressing himself as well leaving him in nothing but his under garment before he pulled a night gown over himself then tossed one to Arthur.

When Alfred turned around, Britannia was already undressed. But that wasn't what caught his eye; the god's massive wings, outstretched to full wing span, emanated a faint, ambient glow. It was only noticeable in the moonlight, just like the rest of him. They were also pristinely clean. Britannia cleaned them in the fresh stream earlier that day.

Alfred raised an eyebrow at the god’s showy display, “Have a nice bath?” he questioned. He laughed lightly to himself imagining the god in a giant bird bath preening as birds so often do. “I don’t care if you want to sleep with your wings out, but make sure no one else sees them. It’ll be a pain in the ass coming up with an excuse for that.” Alfred crawled under the covers of the far side of the bed facing away from Arthur. “Don’t forget to blow out the candles when you’re ready to sleep. Goodnight Arthur.”

Britannia put out the lights with a solid flutter of his wings and slid under the covers next to Alfred. He lay on his stomach with his wings tucked snug against his back. He watched Alfred pretend to sleep. 

"Alfred. Alfred~" he called in a soft sing-song voice.

Alfred grumbled not really angry but more so exasperated. “You’re really not going to give it up are you?” he questioned as he rolled over to face Arthur. He had a slight smile on his face as he tried to make himself sound annoyed. “Ugh. Fine one round but after we go to sleep.”

Britannia purred pleasantly and sat up. He tilted his head back and arched his back, running his hands over his nude body while sighing luxuriously. His wings unfurled and curled teasingly around him like petals of a flower. Britannia was breathtaking in the moonlight and knew it. "Men would go to war for a night with me," he whispered in the voice he used during intimacy. He smirked. "And you say I'm the spoiled one."

“But I’m not just any man now, am I? You wouldn’t have waited centuries for any man to be reincarnated or try so desperately to give me back my memories if I was just another man. No I like to think of myself as special for having a god so hell bent on having and controlling me, makes me feel god-like.” Alfred replied with a smirk of his own. He propped his head up with his elbow, enjoying the show Britannia was putting on.

A light chuckle fluttered from Britannia's lips. "Listen to you prattle on like a villain. How unbecoming of 'the golden champion.'" Flicking his tongue on the pad of his fingers, he circled them over his nipples. They hardened into tight buds, and he pinched them with the blunt edge of his nails. The god laid out his body and arranged his limbs artfully on the bed, half-lidded cat eyes never wavering from the mortal's face. He watched Alfred watch him, idly dancing his fingertips up and down his body leaving tiny goosebumps in their wake. With the other hand he bid Alfred come closer by curling his finger towards himself.

Alfred sat up; pulling the nightgown he wore back over his head leaving him in just his underwear before he crawled over the god. He placed his arms on either side of Arthur's head pinning the god beneath him. “How long has it been since we’ve done this? Hmm? Decades? Centuries?” Alfred gently chuckled, “Either way, it’s been far too long.”

"It has." Britannia glided his fingertips over Alfred's bare skin, tracing the hard lines and contours of his trim figure. He ran his fingers through the crisp hairs trailing down into his underwear and snapped the waistband of his underwear.

Alfred flinched slightly not expecting the sudden snap of pain so close to his sensitive bits. “You’re still as feisty as ever; never letting me get the upper hand even as you’re moaning beneath me, begging for release.” Alfred's hand wandered down Arthur's body acting just as he had in his past life as if nothing had ever changed and Arthur still trusted him. The mortal couldn’t understand how changed everything was now that Arthur was beginning to learn the truth of his past-self’s demise.

A moan passed Britannia's lips. Despite himself, Alfred's sly confidence aroused him. Yes, he remembered their past trysts very well. But underneath the surface he was outraged Alfred would sully the past by bringing it up in the present. That fire easily passed as passion, especially when Britannia pulled him down for a bruising kiss. His arms were like a vice around Alfred's neck and would not allow any escape.

Alfred groaned into the kiss, he knew Arthur was still very strong in his weakened state but if Alfred truly protested Arthur would back down. Yet Alfred didn’t want to protest, in fact he loved it when Arthur took charge leaving Alfred to do nothing but feel the waves of pleasure wrack his body. He rolled his hips grinding their arousals together gasping at the sensation allowing Arthur to deepen the kiss. Alfred gently pushed himself away from Arthur not really fighting the god’s grasp quite yet, but the dizzy fog that started creeping into his mind made him push away harder fighting to get air into his deprived lungs.

Only when darkness curled at the edge of Alfred's vision did Britannia let Alfred go. Alfred's hacking and wheezing made him chuckle, as he sat up and wiped the saliva from his smiling mouth. As Alfred recovered he stripped the mortal bare. He spread Alfred's legs obscenely wide and nestled between them. No way would Arthur allow Alfred to mount him this time or ever again. He rubbed soothing circles over Alfred's heaving chest as he sucked his fingers and inserted them into Alfred.

Alfred was still breathing heavily as Arthur began stretching him. He winced as the first finger slowly started pumping in and out of him, from past memories the practice wasn’t new to him but his current body had never experienced the sensations first hand. Alfred bit his lip trying to ignore the discomfort; it felt like he was a virgin all over again. He whimpered as the second finger was added, much too soon for his liking. Arthur wasn’t being gentle at all and Alfred had a feeling sex wasn’t going to be pleasant. Rather the act was going to be more of a chore he needed to get done to make Arthur leave him alone, if only for the rest of the night.

"Well that won't do at all," Britannia breathed and gently curled his cool fingers around Alfred's wilting erection. As he stretched Alfred the god distracted him with more pleasant stimulation to take the edge off of the burning pain and discomfort. He wanted Alfred to suffer, but be torn on whether he liked it not. 

When Alfred was ready he pulled out all three fingers. "Good boy," he cooed and nudged closer to him.

It hurt as Arthur began to push inside him he may have been stretched properly, but saliva was a terrible lubricant. He could feel himself tearing; Alfred felt tears build up in his eyes. “Stop,” he whimpered, yet the god didn’t listen. Alfred bit hard on his arm trying to prevent himself from crying out of pain, the coppery tang of blood tainted his tongue causing him to gasp out. Any pleasure that had existed from Arthur stroking his cock had evaporated, tears silently made their way down Alfred's face as he steeled himself to face Arthur's cruelty.

If Alfred looked up he would see Britannia's face twisted in cruelty as the god began thrusting before Alfred could adjust. The warm spread of blood served as a terrible lubricant with its coppery tang filling the air. He pinned Alfred's wrists to the bed like a butterfly and soaked in the view of Alfred's agony. Alfred's fatalism surprised him but he hardly cared enough to explore this unexpected turn of events. The Alfred up until now would have pushed Britannia away and made him work for it as he had yesterday and today. 

"What is it, my love? Are you not enjoying it?" Britannia licked his lips and kept going.

Alfred bit his lip refusing to allow Britannia the pleasure of hearing him scream. Perhaps he was willing to let the god have his way with him hoping that maybe the loss of power would change him, make him kinder. That was the trick though. That was what Britannia always used to trick Alfred into doing something he would otherwise refuse. It was those few moments of kindness that had lead his past self into following the god so blindly.

Alfred let the tears stream down his face finally accepting that no matter how many life times or centuries he spent with the god nothing was going to change. He is a fool for hoping otherwise.

Britannia drew out their "lovemaking" long into the night. Britannia spent himself in Alfred many times with no kindness or concern for Alfred's pleasure. Sometimes he would finish with Alfred barely keeping an erection, and other times he made Alfred moan whorishly, writhing underneath him wild and delirious until he screamed in white-hot pleasure against his will. Britannia only wanted one thing, and it certainly wasn't Alfred's heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Much longer than expected this chapter to be but there was no way to have it be shorter without losing out on some of the story. Also Alfred really should have known Arthur hadn’t changed jeez man it was sort of obvious. Until next time.


	7. Chapter 7

Alfred awoke to the burning pain coming from his ass and the warm sensation of another being pressed against his back. It took a few moments for Alfred's brain to work past the pain to realize his assailant was still behind him, curled against his back holding onto his waist. Fear and anger were the first two emotions to pass though his mind. The overwhelming urge to get away made Alfred attempt to get out of the bed without waking the sleeping god, the pain was agonizing as Alfred tried to move that he felt as though he was going to be sick. 

After a few torturous minutes he was finally able to get out of the bed and collapsed on the floor his legs turned liquid beneath him. He heard the sheets rustle as Arthur began to stir; he had to get out of the room. He had to get away from the god. It was clear Arthur would continue to abuse Alfred whenever he fancied for the rest of Alfred's existences. He had to get away from that. Arthur would never listen to, nor believe the truth of the life so long ago. It was pointless to try and make him see reason.

Alfred slowly began to crawl out the room as well as he could trying to cause the least amount of pain possible. He made it as far as the fire place before a cold sweat of pain overtook him. He leaned back against the cool stone trying to will the pain and panic away before he would have to face Britannia upon wakening.

Britannia never slept; unlike mortals, gods did not need the rest and rejuvenation sleep brought, and that did not change for Arthur despite his Fallen state. Rather, they floated just a hair's breadth under the surface of consciousness. There were exceptions like the times Britannia slept in Alfred's presence years ago, but that happened only because the god entirely trusted him. That was why Britannia was aware of Alfred's clandestine exit from the bedroom. He peaked an eye out at Alfred's limping, retreating figure, but slipped it shut when he looked back. 

He did not emerge from the bedroom until mid-morning. He was still nude with wings out when he joined Alfred in the kitchen. Not a line of remorse touched his face as he helped himself to a pot of tea and sat down with a steaming mug of earl grey.

Alfred flinched at the god’s carefree attitude fearing his reaction at what Alfred had been steeling himself all morning to say. “You need to leave.” Alfred managed to keep his tone even much to his relief. “You’ve quite quickly worn out your welcome here. Get out.” Alfred turned ready to face the god’s wrath should it arise. He kept his face neutral even as his instincts told him to get away.

"I will not leave." Britannia sipped his scalding tea and cut his shrewd eyes to Alfred. He chuckled condescendingly, baring teeth. "Do you truly think you can be rid of me? After what you did to me? After what you continue doing to me?" His lips curled even wider. "How darling.

"And don't think you can escape by suicide again." Britannia rose and slowly closed in on Alfred, reveling in the man's fearful retreating steps. "I will quite literally bottle your soul and wear it around my neck. And when I fancy it, I will take you out and..."play" with you." When Alfred hit the wall Britannia slithered up against his chest and draped himself over the mortal, his smile terrifying and playful all at once. "Last night? It was child's play, a mere taste of what awaits you." 

Suddenly he seized Alfred by the hair and harshly yanked. "Alfred F. Jones, Golden Champion of Britannia lord of the sky, you will suffer my heart. You will feel my scalding pain after losing your shining smile in the day and my drawn-out agony as I mourned for your gentle hands in the shroud of night. My loneliness. My sorrow. My desperation. And my wrath."

Alfred felt his anger boil as he worked up his courage to stand up to Arthur. “What do you know of heart ache and pain?” He shoved Arthur off of him thanking the creator that he was just barely taller than the god. “Perhaps you suffered from the after effects of my death, but at the very least you didn’t watch me descend into madness!!” Alfred had though well enough ahead to have his sword on him in case things with Arthur became violent. In his anger Alfred had drawn the blade pressing it against the god’s chest emphasizing each word with a controlled jab of his sword not drawing blood but ensuring there was ample enough distance between the two.

“Do you even realize how far gone you are, even now? How power obsessed you are? Everything to you is mine, mine, mine! Do you even stop to think of what others want? Of what I wanted?” Alfred choked back his frustrated tears. “Of course not. Everything is always about you. That’s all gods are truly good for, their self righteous vanity. They exist to be worshiped and only act when they feel like it. Everything is on a whim.”

“How much of our past life together was simply whims? Just the start? All of it? Did you even really care about me or was I just fun to play with? Are you having fun now Britannia?” Alfred spit the gods name in disgust. “Have I made you angry? Oh I do apologize. Go ahead bottle up my soul; torment my spirit for the rest of eternity. I’m sure nothing would make you happier than the past, complacent, powerful, over-whelmingly depressed self, coming back from beyond.” 

Britannia's lip curled up distastefully. "Do spare me. Hypocrisy does not look good on you." He crossed his arms, belligerent over Alfred's threat inches from piercing his heart. "You speak of self-righteous vanity and yet what else compelled you to kill yourself except that? Your past self returns to me only so long as to defeat Francis' champion and to tell me he loves me. Yet he betrayed me to the highest degree." He snarled. "Do /not/ persecute yourself!"

“No one betrayed you but yourself!” Alfred yelled right back at him. “You blame me for what my past self did; you blame me for the situation we are in now! Why don’t you look at yourself for once and maybe realize the real problem here is YOU!”

Britannia laughed mockingly and somewhat hysterically. "Don't be absurd. It was your suicide that stripped me of my seat at the Nine. And it was by your wicked tongue that the gods knew my true name and banished me from the sky." Britannia clenched his fist around the edge of the sword and impaled himself with the tip. Blood spritzed from the wounds. His eyes were blazing. "Who else did it but you?! You are the bane of my existence, Alfred!"

The words stung Alfred causing him to falter, he made to attempt to cover the pain that covered his expression. “Bane of your existence?” Alfred questioned calmly, when Arthur didn’t respond immediately Alfred slowly limped his way over to the rocking chair next to the fire place. He collapsed into the chair, his mind and body weary. He barely acknowledged when Arthur followed him into the room. “I guess I should be proud at that. To be the bane of an immortal’s existence, but I much preferred the time when I was the love of your existence.” Tears glistened in his eye as he tried to hold himself together. Again Arthur said nothing. Alfred felt as though he was being ignored, and yet it made it easier to start spilling his story feeling as though he was just talking to himself.

“I was once a young man so wild and free. I was the strongest humanity had to offer and in turn a certain god took notice of that.” Alfred smiled sadly as his recounted how he and Arthur met. “You know I always held onto that handkerchief, the one you used to wipe the blood out of my eyes. It felt like a lucky charm. Life was so blissfully happy back then, slaying champion after champion, stolen kisses at night. What more could a man ask for?”

“But happiness can only last so long. I watched power corrupt such a pure and just person. I prayed to whatever force created the gods to save him from himself, but why would such a being listen to an ant. I quietly waited hoping beyond hope that he would calm down once he gained the seat among the nine. So I continued fighting, I savored the moments of happiness and dreaded his anger. I waited an entire century after he had gained his seat, I remained his unchallenged champion. Yet day by day I continued watching him mutate into a creature I barely recognized. Beyond the abuse, beyond the fear, that was what hurt most. So I tried to give him back a piece of his sanity, a piece of what he once was, but long forgotten. I killed myself so he could be whole again and now here I am looking at the same monster I had hoped to slay.” Tears gently trailed down Alfred’s face his lips quivered as he tried but failed to smile. 

“Go ahead bottle my soul if you wish. I won’t try to stop you. I’ve long lost your trust. I’ve lost your love years ago. All that’s left is to take my soul… Do as you please, Arthur.” Alfred bowed his head waiting for the final blows, the final verbal lashing, knowing he couldn’t bring himself to stop Arthur any longer.

A dark silence weighed heavily in the air. Nothing was heard from Britannia's side of the room, and Alfred almost thought he left until the god spoke.

"You died in my arms. Your spirit already passed into the underworld when I woke up to your dead body wrapped up around me." He paused, his voice going very quiet. "...You never said goodbye.”

"All these years I believed Ivan unjustly took you from me. Your death was strange, but I could not, /would not/ believe my golden Alfred abandoned me; so poisoned by your love was I. When you were finally reborn I patiently watched over you as you grew into a strong young man. I was certain, when the time was right, I could make you remember me."

Britannia eyes grew weary, and he stepped back. "But you did remember me. Not the memories, but your feelings towards me. You carry the same hatred, the same disdain. I see that now." He looked at his hands, dull and sallow. "Now look at what has become of me."

“Perhaps I am bitter and filled with disdain, but not towards you. No, rather towards the power you possess for it is that power that stole you away from me. It is that power that drove me to such extremes as to even tempt death just to steal it back from you. Even now I don’t regret my decision. I regret that it didn’t work. I regret that I caused you so much pain. I regret not seeing any other way to try and fix what I had done to you.” Alfred wiped his eyes drying his tears with the back of his sleeve. No matter how much Alfred fear what Arthur had become he would always respect and love the man he was before he had become so corrupt. 

Alfred slowly stood up wincing at the pain that still emanated from his back before continuing, “I gave you that power and in turn I was the main thing protecting its place. I just wanted that power to go away. I just wanted you to realize that with power does not always come with respect or reverence. People adored you long before you gained far more power than you ever needed. Without you people cannot eat the crop they work so hard to tend. Without you the fires that burn their forests would destroy them. Without you, we miniscule mortals would die, but in your corruption and greed, you couldn’t see their respect and awe turn to fear and anger.”

“Is power so much more important to you than the people who worship and honor you? The people who built temples and create shrines in your honor, what of them? Are they less important than the people who revere the nine?” Alfred took careful steps forward with each question. Arthur needed to see where the fault in his logic lay, but he would eventually have to draw his on conclusion, draw his own idea of purpose. Alfred could only hope the god would see reason.

Britannia scoffed and looked away. "And what will you have me do? You would rather see me live out my days as a human until grief overtakes me and I perish from homesickness." He looked out the window, staring far passed the scenery into another world. At length he spoke:

"You had your sport of me, Alfred. No more. Grant me one last request: return me to the heavens, and I will reward you." 

“What I want isn’t a reward.” Alfred sighed and shook his head giving up the quite tired argument. “So be it. I will return you to the heavens, but in turn leave me be. Let me live out the rest of this life as I want to unless I am to be called upon for battle. Stay here, leave, I don’t care but I will not dwell under the same roof as you.” 

Alfred slowly made his way to the bedroom his entire being drenched in the sadness he felt, not for himself but for Arthur's blind eye towards the real issues. The way Arthur could quickly turn everything into something about himself wore Alfred down. Was it too much to hope that one day Arthur could see the real issues of the world did not involve power struggles among the gods? 

Alfred shook his head, wiping the single tear that had managed to escape his eyes. “I’ll be gone by nightfall. I’m sure you will easily find me when I am needed. Until then, Britannia.”

Britannia kept a cool eye on Alfred as the man brushed passed him. He was leery of letting Alfred out of his sight, but it wasn't because he doubted Alfred's honor to his promise. Alfred's words unsettled him. For the first time he knew the truth behind Alfred's betrayal, and it was nothing like he had imagined. It confused him...why would Alfred...?

Britannia followed Alfred into the bedroom. His face was tight and closed off. "Why did you love me, if not for my power and divinity? What else would a human want from a god?"

Alfred was frustrated that Arthur refused to just leave him be to pack away what he needed, though the god’s question made Alfred stop and smile. If nothing else he at least made Britannia start to think. “To be honest when I first met you the power was a big pull, but as I got to know you I realized I didn’t need that power to be happy. I just wanted to see your smile whenever I was victorious. I enjoyed the tingling sensation of your fingers running through my hair comforting me after a hard fight. Eventually admiration for your justness even when it would go against the cries and wishes of the people who so worshipped you. I cherished every time I saw your mercy and trembled in fear when I witnessed your wrath.”

Alfred slowed down his packing and tried to explain why power meant less to men than it did to gods. “Power in the eyes of man is a fleeting thing. The only thing we mortals have to keep us trying even when it seems every god is against us is the love and perseverance we hold. I loved you Arthur with every fiber of my being. I loved who you used to be; now I don’t know anymore.” Alfred had finished packing away the last of his necessary belongings and fastened the bag shut. He slung his bag over his shoulder and brushed past Arthur. He stopped at the door to fasten his cloak around his neck. His body was still quite sore from the prior night, but he pushed past the pain he needed to venture again. More than anything Alfred needed to sharpen his skills again if he was to contend with the champions chosen by the gods themselves.

Britannia's bright eyes softened and followed Alfred's retreating back. But he didn't follow. When he heard the quiet click of the door, he knew he was alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Truly Arthur isn’t that bad of a guy he is just… a selfish prick who can’t see the error of his ways. He’s quite the lovable prick if you ask me… Anyways until next time.
> 
> EDIT
> 
> To anyone who sees this edited note I will also post it on the next chapter. 
> 
> Alfred's mun: Alright, so I got a review telling me that they didn’t appreciate how I brushed off the con into a non-con scene. Let me elaborate on what I mean by my words. Yes, Arthur is a major dick. What he did was unforgivable. I may not personally be a rape survivor, but my mom is and as such I really don’t like the idea of someone getting off scot-free after something like this. I can understand why someone would be upset by my careless words and for that I do apologize.
> 
> I’ll tell you this much, Alfred never does forgive Arthur for everything he had done to him, because like I said what Arthur had done to him was unforgivable, that being said it doesn’t mean this story is necessarily going to end the way I’m sure some of you want. 
> 
> Britannia's mun: Britannia is a god. He doesn't see humans as his equal, nor has he ever truly given thought to what effect his capricious evils have on humans as sentient beings. Unfortunately, this includes Alfred. Although Britannia loves Alfred he doesn't know /how/ to love him. Britannia raped Alfred and there's no two ways about it. His actions are spurred from resentment and desperation and ignorance. As Britannia's mun I think Britannia failed to put his feelings into action and what happened was disastrous. 
> 
> Also: Alfred's rape is NOT minimized for the rest of the fic. Britannia's tyrannical abuse is the reason for Alfred's leaving Britannia and it continues to be the moving conflict for the rest of the story.


	8. Chapter 8

Britannia spent most of his days in nature as he waited. He bathed in the stream, walked through the woods, and dozed in the fields. Wildlife was naturally drawn to him, and normally skittish animals like deer brought him little gifts of holly branches or flowers. But Britannia spent most of his time looking up at the sky. He grew more homesick as the days went by, waiting for Alfred once again.

Alfred journeyed from town to town searching out the strongest warrior within the area, but with each battle he began to realize why the gods only selected a single champion. Alfred was uncontested in each area even the most promising competitor was defeated within moments. Rumors began to spread about a warrior with unrivaled skill many wealthy men came offering Alfred promises of riches and title if he were to serve under them. It disgusted Alfred how little these people knew of true values they thought flaunting their money around would grant them happiness. Oh how wrong they were.

Happiness was a smile even though times were tough. Happiness was the soft whispers between two loves when all others were sleeping. Happiness was the gentle caresses from the one you loved. Alfred could go on forever, he had done a lot of thinking while journeying and realized that the person he thought of during those quiet hours of the night was the deity he had met hundreds of years ago. 

It was six months since Alfred had last seen or heard from Arthur. It was pleasantly quiet without the power hungry god around, but Alfred knew he would have to return eventually because he couldn’t avoid his promise forever. And so the mortal found himself venturing to the forests where he knew the god would try to find a semblance of home while Alfred was away.

"Ah, the hero returns from his restless, soul-searching journey," a lyrical voice called down from the treetops, though Alfred could not tell from whence. "Tell me, did you find what you were looking for?" 

Alfred looked up to see the god perched on a high branch, wearing his white chiton but without his wings. A red cardinal shifted on his shoulder. Britannia peered down curiously. "I've heard much about you."

“I’m sure you have. I’ve become quite popular among the people, but they are of no real challenge. Care to bring me one?” Alfred relaxed on his saddle even as the horse nervously shifted. Once he completed his promise to the god he could live the rest of his life in peace. So the sooner the battles were won, the sooner his job would be done.

"I wouldn't get too cocky," Britannia warned warily. "A few things have changed." Hopping off the branch and landing gracefully on his feet, the god approached Alfred and rested a calming hand on the steed. He looked up at Alfred. "You won't be fighting a human."

“What will I be fighting then? A centaur?” Alfred asked with a laugh. “Whatever it is surely it couldn’t be that difficult to defeat.”

Britannia's lazy cat eyes glowered, unimpressed. "A demi-god." He stepped back and unfurled his wings, stretching them at full span at the same time he stretched his arms. "You will need my assistance. Will you accept?"

Alfred's expression was both shocked and bemused for many reasons. Fighting a demi-god would be a challenge he’s never faced before and from what he has been told about the beings they were not to be so easily trifled with. What amused him most is that Arthur actually asked him before simply doing to ensure Alfred would win back his power. “Oh I get a say in whether I want your magic cast on me or not? It’s not like you to be so kind.” Alfred let out a small chuckle, “Since you’ve offered so kindly then I suppose I have no choice but to accept.”

Britannia shrugged one shoulder noncommittally, petting the handsome horse and decidedly not meeting Alfred's eye. "In consideration to our last parting, do you not agree it's warranted?" His hand followed the spine and wandered down the horse's coarse mane, stopping right before Alfred's saddle where Alfred's strong thighs startled the horse. He looked up at Alfred.

“I suppose you’re right…” Alfred agreed as their eyes met all previous mirth leaving him. He shook his head not wanting to think back on such depressing topic when he was about to risk his life for this very god. “Nonetheless I suppose we should be on our way. When and where is the scheduled battle to be acted out?”

A booming voice gathered from the edges of the wood, startling them. "The battle will commence now. I have little time to spare for this foolishness." There was no mistaking the god of war. He emerged from the shadows, a god of great power and strength demanding the subjugation of all that lay in his path. With platinum blond hair slicked back and blue eyes as cold as ice, he practically towered over the two. Even Britannia took a step back.

Alfred gulped and did his best to calm his whining horse. Once he had managed to calm the beast enough he looked down at Arthur anxiously, “I’m not fighting him am I?” The being in front of him could look him dead in the eyes even with Alfred on horseback; he wasn’t keen on fighting someone who would tower over him on the battle field. 

Ludwig, the god of war, cut Alfred a scornful glare that could have shattered mountains. A gleeful cackle was heard from behind.

Alfred nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound. He quickly looked behind him and was greeted with the sight of a strange looking man, his eyes were blood red and his hair was so white it was practically translucent. Alfred relaxed slightly noting that at least this new arrival was about his height.

Once the being had walked around them and stood beside the giant of a god (Alfred hoped) the mortal’s question was finally answered. “No, my baby brother isn’t going to be fighting you. I am. You may refer to me as your awesomeness.”

Alfred looked between the two men in front of him still very confused before looking down at Arthur in hopes of an explanation.

Britannia spared Alfred a sideways glance before stepping forward to greet the gods. "Let's get this over with," he said dispassionately, even carelessly. No emotion betrayed his face, but the sightless, faraway look in his eyes told of the god's lack of notice and regard to the events unfolding. 

It was Ludwig who took them back to the realm held for the sole purpose of dueling and decisive battles. Unlike the last arena that was held in a ring of fire, this arena appeared to be amongst the ruins of what was once a great city but now long forgotten in history.

Britannia snorted and walked around, "How typical of you to choose the last city that honored Germania as their patron god." The winged god rested his hand on a massive stone pillar and looked up its length to what would have been the stone roof, but was instead the sky.

Gilbert let out another crackling laugh, “Why not pops was pretty awesome, better than the other old timers if you ask my opinion.” 

“Oh hush my grandfather was a great god.” Another voice argued. “Wouldn’t you agree Tesoro?” The small brunette was wearing an outfit similar to Arthur's with the exception of it being a halter style neck rather than the single sleeve look giving his small white wings room to move. And while this newcomer wasn’t exactly short, the blonde still was quite a bit taller than him by a good four feet.

“Il mio amore, you know I hate it when you actively try to be this tall. You’re tall enough as is. Shrink down it’s so hard to kiss you this way.” The brunette smiled as the god of war shrunk to a more reasonable size that was much less intimidating and left him only a head taller than the brunette. 

Alfred watched the display in confusion both as to where his horse disappeared to and which gods stood before him. As Arthur walked back to his side Alfred took the distraction as the chance to ask, “I didn’t actively try to remember other gods care to fill me in on who’s who?”

Britannia leaned towards Alfred as he filled him in. "Our newcomer is Feliciano, the god of peace. He and Ludwig, the god of war, are lovers of the most unusual kind." He nodded towards the albino Demi-god. "That is Gilbert, the Trickster, born from a mortal woman. He shares the same father as Ludwig." He touched Alfred's arm and smoothed his palm up Alfred's shoulder thoughtfully. "You are nearly a Demi-god yourself, but Gilbert is far beyond your skill. His strength is in his illusions. Don't let him draw you in."

Alfred quirked his brow at the information about Ludwig and Feli, but listened closely to everything Arthur said. “Well that’s a comforting thought, now I’ll never know if what I’m seeing is actually there. Have any advice on how to trick him, before he tricks me?” Alfred adjusted his gear as he spoke trying to ignore the feeling of dread that was building in his stomach.

"Not particularly." Britannia breathed a monotonous sigh. Knowing this was possibly the last time their lives crossed paths stole all the life from Britannia. It was the most inconvenient time. Every word, every gesture remind Britannia of who Alfred used to be to the god. It burned his heart, and he could not even look at his face. At the back if his mind it was vaguely disturbing how thoughts of Alfred took precedence over thoughts of his freedom. 

The drama between Ludwig and Feliciano wound down, and Gilbert's smile grew hard with determination. "I am ready when you are, bruder." Gilbert took his place besides Ludwig. With a nod from Britannia, Ludwig began. 

The god of war stepped close and curled his arm under the small of Gilbert's back, and Gilbert arched against Ludwig's arm. Gilbert choked and spasmed as Ludwig rammed his fist into the demigod's stomach. Ludwig's fist sunk into the flesh, swallowed up to the forearm, and Gilbert visibly spasmed when he suddenly pulled back. Out came a sword Ludwig unsheathed from the depths of Gilbert's very soul, the manifestation of power Gilbert would use against Alfred in the fight. Ludwig held Gilbert as the Trickster recovered, shaking himself with a laugh and taking the sword. He held up the black blade, pointing it to the pinnacle of the sky before swiping it down and facing Alfred and Britannia. He cackled with a shit-eating grin. "How about that, eh? Bet that blew your skirt up, Britannia."

Alfred's former confidence about the fight flew out the window and now he felt like a new champion all over again frightened by the powers of the gods. He looked at Arthur silently pleading for anything to get him out of this situation. This fight would be nothing like his skirmishes on earth, not even remotely similar to his previous battles with other champions. His fight was to be up against a demi-god and do whatever he could simply to survive the experience.

Britannia could only offer Alfred a sympathetic look, the first mercy he showed since they appeared in this dimensional plane. "These were the conditions," he explained, "and it had to be you." He didn't divulge into the reason /why/ it had to be Alfred; in order for the god to be restored to full rights, Alfred must show compassion for Britannia. It meant the rift between the two was salvaged and Britannia had no reason to repeat his terrible deed.

“Wonderful, well I hope your glade is worth it when I die because of this fight.” Alfred started to take a step towards the battle field. Mentally he was already defeated from the moment Gilbert had shown up. He knew there was no way he was going to win the fight when Arthur didn’t even have enough magic to teleport them here, let alone enhance Alfred's strength.

Gilbert stood waiting, a cocky, expectant smirk lighting his pallid face. He read the conflict on Alfred's troubled face as clear as day. "You're dead meat," he announced matter-of-factly as he deftly arched his sword in the air left and right. 

With a small "ve~" Feliciano gracefully flew over to greet the fighters. "Now, let's have a clean and fair fight, okay? And afterward we can all sit and eat and be nice to each other again." Not that the gods were ever nice to each other. Feliciano was one of the few who were which as why he was the witness and mediator of the duel.

Alfred drew his sword keeping a keen eye on Gilbert watching for the opportunity to strike as soon as Feliciano gave permission for the fight to start. The adrenaline already coursed through his blood and reason begged him to flee. He quickly shifted into a more defensive ready position as Feliciano raised his arm signaling for the fighters to put up their guard. Alfred wasn’t expecting the first strike when it occurred, the second Feliciano lowered his arm Gilbert attacked throwing Alfred off balance, it was all he could do to remain on his feet.

Gilbert fought fearlessly. His attacks were pure offense, wild and ferocious almost to the point if recklessness. Almost. The demigod was gifted in the art of war having given the god of war himself knowledge in the art of warfare. But it was clear that the demigod was merely teasing the mortal; he left himself wide open only to effortlessly sidestep a stab or swipe. His intention was more to frustrate and wear the poor man out than truly fight. 

Gilbert deflected Alfred's counterattack with ease, but instead of tripping Alfred up, the trickster god reeled his arm back with amazing speed, plunging the tip of the sword straight for Alfred's head--

Alfred panicked and quickly threw his arm above his head crying out in pain as the blade pierced through his sword arm. He had managed to move his head far enough out of the way that the only damage on his face was to his cheek. Alfred hissed in pain as Gilbert drew his sword out of the mortal’s arm, quickly he brought the injured limb close to his body to protect it from further damage but he was as good as dead now that he could not attack. His sword lay down on the ground close to the demi-god and much too dangerous for Alfred to even attempt to use his other arm to grab the weapon and attack. He had to buy as much time as he could for the pain in his arm to die down so he could push past the injury and continue to fight, if he could manage to live that long.

It was all Britannia could do to restrain himself from bolting across the arena and intervening. He was ashamed as it was of his inability to provide Alfred with aid. He felt helpless hovering at the fringes of the arena; one step farther and the match would disqualify. It was Britannia's continuing hope for his freedom that forced him to anxiously wait as the duel played itself out until the very end. 

But Alfred wasn't going to last any longer. His sword was cast out of his hand and kicked away by Gilbert. As Gilbert closed in on Alfred, the trickster god's inky shadow eclipsed Alfred prostrate form. He tapped the flat of his sword against his palm contemplatively, looking down at the man curiously. "Why are you here, Alfred?"

The mortal was panting hard from exhaustion and pain; he kept his eyes on the blade before him waiting for the inevitable. His alarm and guard was so high that he had to take a few moments to understand that Gilbert had actually asked him a question. He swallowed hard trying to force words from his throat before he managed to say, “I made a promise. I promised to try and return him to his home, knowing that should I break that promise a most gruesome death awaits me on the battlefield.”

Gilbert pressed the flat of his blade under Alfred's chin and tilted it up for a better look at the human. He scrutinized the fine features of the man's face and hummed, seeming to like what he saw. "I shall fulfill that promise on your behalf. I will spare you, and in exchange you will represent my awesomeness in fighting for /my/ seat at the Nine." Though Alfred knew nothing of Gilbert, he knew much of Alfred. The man was Britannia's uncontested champion--was still his uncontested champion considering he was never technically killed in battle. He knew a good deal when he saw it. 

"Heh. So whaddya say? You were gonna dump the old bitch anyway, right? I don't blame ya." His jerked his head toward the god who was poised anxiously at the perimeter, unable to hear what was being said. "This fool was so revoltingly obsessed with you he convinced himself Ivan killed you and waited hundreds and hundreds of years for your reincarnation." Gilbert threw his head back and bellowed a laugh; it was clear that Britannia was the subject of much scorn from Gilbert and other gods. "For a so-called god to return a human's love and worship the human in turn is reprehensible no matter who it is."

Alfred shoved the blade from under his throat; he glared at the demi-god in disgust. How dare he insult a being who was once such a great and powerful god revered by many. How dare Gilbert insult the bond that he had shared with Arthur, no matter how tattered the said bond had become. Alfred would rather die than serve such a being and he told Gilbert as such. 

“You?” Alfred scoffed. “What business would a dirty blood of a half god have in the place of one of the nine? Your mother scorns your birth and your father cares nothing for you. You are just an annoying tick that won’t keel over. I would rather die here today than serve such a pathetic half-being who doesn’t belong anywhere.” Alfred sneered and spit on Gilbert’s shoe, “Britannia is twice the god you could ever dream to be. Son of a whore.”

A scandalized gasp was heard from the peripheral; Feliciano bleated pitifully and flailed his arms in the air pleading for Alfred to surrender and ask for forgiveness now or he'll surely die. Ludwig had to calm him down from screaming the whole dimension down. Britannia, too, was shocked, but he was also impressed with the man's defiance against the demigod. It was Alfred's resilience in the face of hopelessness that made him so fetching as a champion. Ambiguous pleasure twisted his gut; he didn't expect after all that he put Alfred through--for he was beginning to truly understand that it was he who was the root of Alfred's suffering-- the man would defend his honor at the cost if his death. He had to do something-- 

"BRITANNIA!" Britannia faltered and almost stumbled over the line. Ludwig was glaring at him, red-faced. "If you cross the boundary, you will forfeit on my mercy to give you another chance." He looked at Alfred who had just stood up. "Have faith in him. He has never lost, after all." 

Britannia was vexed with conflict and was on the verge of bolting anyway, but when he saw Alfred recover and dodge away from Gilbert's fury of onslaughts, he remembered. He had faith in Alfred once, and he still did. Despite all odds, time and again Alfred won out with only a fool's hope on his side. 

"Alfred!!" Britannia called out desperately. "I believe in you! My love, fight for me with all your heart!!"

Alfred could hear the shouting but was too focused on surviving to understand the words. His arm was still burning in agonizing pain but he had managed to pick up his sword, regardless of how bad his arm was shaking trying to hold the heavy weapon. 

“Did I upset you?” Alfred teased purposely provoking Gilbert. “What will you do go beg daddy to recognize you after you smite me?” The demi-god’s swings were becoming more wild and furious with each blow Alfred was barely managing to stay on his feet. “I bet you hate how adored and recognize your younger brother is for merely being a full blooded god and not a pathetic Halfling.” Alfred managed to get a swipe in barely nicking Gilbert but successfully pissing him off even more. “Come on I thought you were suppose to be stronger than this! Pathetic no wonder you’re dishonored by even mortals.”

The trickster demigod let loose a savage, visceral snarl that curdled in the back of his throat. His sword glowed like red-hot iron as did his eyes that blurred in rage. All discipline and skill fell to the wayside. All that mattered was Alfred's demise at any and all costs. 

"We will see who is worthless!!" Gilbert roared furiously as Alfred once again dodged his blow. "You run--" Gilbert swung, "--and skip--" he lunged, "--and scurry away, but I repay my debts, and my wrath is endless, dear boy." Alfred ducked away once more, and Gilbert abruptly stopped, heaving not from exhaustion, but from passion. He stepped back. "Dodge this!!" He reeled his sword back across his chest to his opposite shoulder and lobbed it as hard as he could. It spun like an axis straight for Alfred's neck; he ducked, of course, but Gilbert had further intention. The demigod teleported behind the mortal and caught the sword. And plunged it straight into Alfred's back. The blade punched through the man's body and out of his stomach. Gore burst out of the exit wound. Alfred went limp, and the only thing holding him up was Gilbert's sword.

It took a moment for his brain to register the pain. His body felt like jelly and lost its ability to hold itself up. As Gilbert withdrew his sword Alfred collapsed on the ground like a rag doll. He coughed and sputtered as he tried to push himself up again but already the wound bled heavily. Each attempt at righting himself was met with failure and waves of dizziness.

Britannia took off in a sprint as Ludwig shouted after him in surprise. Feliciano was not far behind, and Ludwig just sighed hopelessly and reluctantly trotted after them. As Gilbert braced back to deal the final blow, it took all of Britannia's Magick to shout a command that threw Gilbert backwards and bind him to the ground. Britannia fell to his knees at Alfred's side and turned him on his side to help him breathe. 

"Alfred..." he breathed over and over desperately, gingerly touching his face and stroking his hair. 

He heard Gilbert's hollow coughs, and the god turned towards the demigod with murder in his eyes. "You violated the statute commanded by the gods! No one is exempt from the rules, let alone your kind." Gilbert was winded and couldn't respond, but Britannia didn't care. He turned back to Alfred. The man lost so much blood and his body was quickly failing itself. Once again, Britannia was helpless to aid Alfred; he simply had no power left. 

Feliciano flew to join Britannia and lighted on his feet. Their eyes met. "Heal him," the god hissed vehemently and Feliciano recoiled in fright. "Gilbert broke a statute. A champion may only use Magick granted by the champion's host." Britannia begged with his eyes what he didn't dare say aloud. /Please. Please do this./

Feliciano nodded, understanding the words in Britannia's eyes more than the words he spoke. "So it shall be," he said gently and firmly planted his hands on Alfred's stomach over his wounds. A gentle white light haloed his form as Alfred's body began to mend.

It burned. As Feliciano healed him the wound burned, it was nothing like the comforting way Arthur would heal and sooth his wounds. Alfred began to struggle against the pain in his stomach only for the pain to spike with any miniscule movement. He grasped out and clung to the edge of Britannia's toga gritting his teeth to prevent himself from crying out.

In the heat of the moment Britannia forgot his hate and whispered soothingly in Alfred's ear. /Everything will be okay. I won't let him hurt you. You're safe./ Feliciano worried his lip and whimpered in sympathetic pain as Alfred writhed in agony. The gentle god was not uniquely gifted in the healing arts as Britannia was, and the best he could do was stop the bloodflow by cauterizing the wound while accelerating Alfred's natural healing. Alfred was out of danger, but the man was far from healed, and terrible scars were likely to form.

Britannia continued stroking Alfred's hair as the man quieted down. Ludwig's jaw was tight with restrained anger as he looked down at his half-brother. With a curt wave Gilbert was free, and the trickster stood up, dusting himself off. 

The demigod cut Ludwig off before the god could speak. "I hear you, I hear you. I broke a rule. But if you ask me, he had it coming." His face grew dark and glowered down at the fallen mortal, arms crossed and muscles tense. 

Britannia stared up at him fearlessly. "I call foul. There is no excuse for violating the law that preserves our tradition and keeps it sacred." 

Ludwig pinched the bridge of his nose and screwed his eyes shut, willing away his temper and clearing his mind. "I must agree with Britannia. This was nothing short of a disaster." He turned to Feliciano. "What say you, mediator?"

Feliciano shyly dug his heels in the ground, avoiding their gazes. "I agree, Ludwig. A rematch is appropriate... with a penalty on Gilbert." Gilbert squawked in indignation but a look from Ludwig shut him up. 

"That is fair." Ludwig turned to Britannia. "Do you accept a rematch?"

Britannia hesitated. "I leave the decision up to Alfred. You will have your answer in a week's time." 

Britannia's answer was curious to Ludwig, but it was not his place to meddle. "One week," Ludwig confirmed with a satisfied nod. Gilbert and Feliciano were already waiting when Ludwig joined them at the vortex. One by one they disappeared into the vortex, leaving Britannia and Alfred behind. The world around them, no longer sustained by the gods' Magick, returned to the corporeal plane on earth. They were back in the present; lying in the same forest they left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For those who did not see this updated A/N last chapter.
> 
> Alfred's mun: Alright, so I got a review telling me that they didn’t appreciate how I brushed off the con into a non-con scene. Let me elaborate on what I mean by my words. Yes Arthur is a major dick. What he did was unforgivable. I may not personally be a rape survivor, but my mom is and as such I really don’t like the idea of someone getting off scot-free after something like this. I can understand why someone would be upset by my careless words and for that I do apologize.
> 
> I’ll tell you this much, Alfred never does forgive Arthur for everything he had done to him, because like I said what Arthur had done to him was unforgivable, that being said it doesn’t mean this story is necessarily going to end the way I’m sure some of you want. 
> 
> Britannia's mun: Britannia is a god. He doesn't see humans as his equal, nor has he ever truly given thought to what effect his capricious evils have on humans as sentient beings. Unfortunately, this includes Alfred. Although Britannia loves Alfred he doesn't know /how/ to love him. Britannia raped Alfred and there's no two ways about it. His actions are spurred from resentment and desperation and ignorance. As Britannia's mun I think Britannia failed to put his feelings into action and what happened was disastrous. 
> 
> Also: Alfred's rape is NOT minimized for the rest of the fic. Britannia's tyrannical abuse is the reason for Alfred's leaving Britannia and it continues to be the moving conflict for the rest of the story.


	9. Chapter 9

It was a beautiful day, Alfred had just defeated another champion and Arthur's place among the nine was beyond secure. The two were in Arthur's glade which had become a sort of home for the both of them. They were safe within the glade and as such the ever wary god’s guard could drop. Alfred relaxed in the lake; it was always the perfect temperature never too hot and never too cold. Minor scratches from the fight quickly disappeared from his skin due to the enchantment of the water and larger cuts no longer hurt as they healed much slower than the scraps. Everything was as it should be, perfect.

They lay together in the shallow water. Sunlight winked flecks of gold on surface of the clear water as the trees above swayed in the breeze. Britannia lounged against a smooth rock as Alfred relaxed flush against him. Cupping handfuls of water, the god lazily lapped it against Alfred's already-healed wounds. Their clothes were strewn on the ground next to them at the edge of the lake, Britannia having stripped Alfred of his armor before tending to his wounds. It was a ritual they had for years; after every duel won in Alfred's favor, Britannia took them to his glade where he healed him in the enchanted waters of the lake. Though they were intimate for close to a century (Britannia having blessed Alfred with eternal youth long ago) it was only recently that Britannia invited him into his glade and into his heart. Alfred hadn't even known about Britannia's home until the god revealed it to him.

Alfred hummed contently as the water slowly cascaded down his body. He tilted his face up to glance at Arthur as he was just recently permitted to call him while they were alone. “Don’t I get a kiss for my efforts? It was quite the strenuous battle today,” he gently teased. Closing his eyes Alfred gently began to caress his fingertips over Arthur's thigh, drawing lazy patterns of circles.

"Just a kiss?" Britannia teased in a gentle voice. He danced his fingers up and down Alfred's strong chest. Requesting a kiss from a god was hardly a modest request, but Britannia was bored of partners prostrating themselves before him and that was why Alfred allured him so. 

Their lips touched in a chaste, lingering kiss. It lasted a few sweet moments before Britannia slanted his lips over Alfred's and deepened it.

Alfred couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, his life now was more wonderful than he could have ever hoped for himself. It wasn’t even that he was the lover of a god. No, the power meant nothing to him it was that he belonged to Arthur and (though he was sure the god would deny it) Arthur belonged to him.

Alfred enjoyed the kiss for a few moments more before breaking away so he could turn and face Arthur making the pleasure more enjoyable. Their lips reconnected just as slow and deep as Alfred adored. His arms moved to wrap themselves loosely around Arthur's neck, his fingers tickling the nape of the god. “I love you.” Alfred confessed breathily as he briefly pulled away once again, “I’ve loved you for hundreds of years now, my dear.”

Britannia's eyes softened at the edges. He raised a hand to cradle Alfred's face with utmost tenderness. They stared into each other's eyes, green on blue. "My life did not start until I met you. I'll love you until the end of time."

Alfred let out a short breathy laugh, “The end of time huh?” He placed a quick peck on the god’s lips. “Then it seems I’ll be around for quite awhile. Sure you won’t get sick of me? I am quite the sap.”

Britannia smirked. "You will just have to keep me entertained." He lifted his knees, cradling Alfred between his legs. There was no question that the god was vain--he knew just how alluring he was with his back arched against the rock, neck exposed in a flash of white skin, lids half-shadowed over his jade eyes.

“I think I can manage that much,” Alfred murmured as gently kissed Arthur's neck. He unwound his arms, bringing them down to stroke Arthur's sides. Ever so slowly he moved his hands up Arthur's body making sure to massage the spots he knew Arthur enjoyed. He wasn’t afraid of turning a quick peck into a passionate make-out session Arthur had long given him permission to kiss his perfect lips whenever Alfred felt so inclined. His hand drifted further south resting just a hairbreadth above the god’s perfectly sculpted ass. “May I?” Alfred whispered against Arthur's lips.

"You may," the god sighed into the kiss and covered Alfred's mouth again. He slinked his arms around Alfred's neck and pulled him closer. Curling his fingers in Alfred's damp hair, the god moaned gently as Alfred continued.

Alfred let his hand move to grasp Arthur's rear while the other remained on the god’s chest teasing a nipple. Whispers of praise and compliments slipped forth covering any gaps between kisses, but soon Alfred's body hungered for more. Alfred pulled back forcing Arthur to loosen his grip on Alfred's head only for Alfred to move down and begin leaving a trail of kisses down Arthur's neck. “Your beauty matches no other, not even the other gods can compare.” Alfred gently nipped Arthur's throat kissing the light mark he left there. He pressed a finger to Arthur's hole gently prodding the entrance but not pushing in, he began to slowly pump Arthur's half-hard member with his other hand letting his mouth bite and suck the god’s torso.

Alfred was an attentive lover and made sure Britannia was satisfied in every way. Britannia closed his eyes and sighed pleasantly. His thighs parted in silent permission as Alfred teased his hole. Happiness bubbled in his chest as Alfred praised him; Britannia never knew love like this until Alfred entered his life. Neither his former champions, nor his life-devoted priests and priestesses matched the depth of feelings Alfred gave to him. In turn Britannia felt for Alfred. He had never appointed Alfred as his champion with the intention of building a romance; Britannia scorned love and found finding happiness in others contemptible. He had no love but for himself. And yet here he was.

Alfred slowly push a fingers past the ring of muscle his hands worked together both stretching and pleasuring Arthur's lower bits the enchanted water making an excellent lubricant. He both wanted to rush through to process and take his time, he could feel how painfully hard he was becoming just listening to the gentle moans coming from Britannia’s mouth. He added another finger as he nibbled on Arthur's collar his words vibrating across the god’s skin. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

The corners of Britannia's lips curved into a beautiful smile. Eyes closed in bliss, he stroked his knight's golden hair. He purred low in his throat when Alfred's calloused fingers stroked his prostate. 

The god tipped Alfred's chin up to meet his eyes, and Britannia used that lull in excitement to gently turn the man around so their positions were reversed. Alfred took Britannia's spot against the rock as Britannia crawled on his hands and knees over his lap with an impish smile. "You take far too long, dearest."

Britannia pillowed his lips in the center of Alfred's chest between his pecs. His eyes were wide and smoldering on Alfred's as he trailed tickling kisses down the man's body. He flicked his tongue in Alfred's navel, fucking the hole with his tongue before mouthing down his groin. With one parting smirk the god's head submerged and engulfed Alfred's hard length in his throat.

Alfred's breath hitched at the sudden feeling of Arthur's mouth surrounding his cock. He watched as Arthur bobbed up and down in the water wondering how long Arthur could hold his breath under water. It was an impressive and hot sight to behold with Arthur's ass sticking being the only part of the god’s body completely out of the water. The way it wiggled slightly was so inviting that Alfred reached around (ensuring that if Arthur wanted to come up for air he could) and pressed his fingers back inside the hole stretching it wide open, enjoying the obscene sounds it made as he fucked Arthur with his fingers.

It should have been impossible to suck Alfred off underwater, but natural law took exception to the gods if they so willed it. Britannia sucked Alfred from root to tip, flicked his tongue in the slit, and plunged the whole length back down his throat again. He reached underneath himself and joined Alfred's fingers, scissoring himself open as Alfred played with his hole. His other hand stroked Alfred's manhood from his balls to the small stretch of skin underneath it. 

They were far passed ready when Britannia resurfaced. With a short, fortifying gasp the god's breathing leveled as if he hadn't been underwater for several minutes giving Alfred head. Britannia kissed Alfred harshly and demanded against his lips, "I want you inside me."

With the command Alfred did as any good champion did: obey. He pulled Arthur flush against his chest and positioned himself at Arthur's entrance before fully sheathing himself inside the god. He groaned at the tight warmth that now surrounded his cock and buried his head in the crook of Arthur's neck. 

Britannia's eyes rolled back as his thick eyelashes fluttered shut. His body accepted all of him in one thrust. His back went taut, and a fine spray of must settled over the lake as the god's powerful wings arched back. His heart ached beautifully as Alfred nuzzled his neck; it was the small affections that made making love unforgettable. No, he'd never forget...

Britannia gasped in Alfred's ear as their hips ground together. Britannia used Alfred's shoulders as leverage as the man lifted the god's hips in the water.

“I love you,” Alfred whispered in the god’s ear as he pulled Arthur back down enjoying the soft hitch of the other’s breath at the sensation. He continued to whisper encouragements and words of love with each thrust punctuated by feather light kisses along Arthur’s neck. “My beautiful,” a kiss, “Perfect,” a gentle thrust, “god.”

Britannia took Alfred for his lover as soon as Alfred swore absolute fealty to him. He seduced the man with that way of his, but it wasn't until recently that the god allowed himself to be the receiver in their lovemaking. Britannia thought it beneath him to submit himself to a human. Slowly, Alfred chipped away the ice encasing the heart Britannia never knew was there, and Britannia was helpless to Alfred's love when his pride melted away. 

Britannia sensuously rolled his hips and met Alfred's thrusts halfway. Only the sound of water splashing and rippling around them could be heard over their soft voices and cries.

Alfred could feel his climax approaching and by the way Arthur tightened around him he was sure the god was just as near. He wrapped one arm around Arthur to hold him steady while the other began to pump the god’s length in time with his thrusts. Alfred groaned trying to delay the inevitable simply to prolong the feeling of closeness and love that the two would share whenever they made love.

Britannia pressed his lips to the shell of Alfred's ear, feeding words of praise and adoration into his ear. He said how much he loved Alfred, loved his cock, loved everything about him. When the pleasure reached a fever pitch Britannia purred low in his throat, releasing his essence over Alfred's hand until he was milked dry. Just before he came he wrapped his arms around the man's neck, and as he came down from his high he hugged him gently.

Alfred moaned gently as he came, his breath came out in gentle huffs as his high wore off. He smiled at the god’s gentle grip on his neck and wrapped his own arms around Arthur's waist nuzzling against Arthur's neck as he hummed contently. He gently moved them so he could pull out of Arthur and simply enjoy cuddling close to the god. More than anything he had ever done with Arthur he enjoyed simply holding the other close and feeling the gentle warmth that came from two bodies held so close together.

Time passed in gentle silence as they held each other close. Words weren't needed; everything that needed to be said was communicated through the kind affections they gave each other. Britannia could speak to Alfred through touch and gaze alone. 

Britannia lifted his head and kissed Alfred gently. Soft sounds sparked from their lips as they parted and joined again.

Alfred moved his arm up to gently caress Arthur's face, but hissed when he twisted it ever so slightly. Looking at his arm he could still see the entrance and exit wounds from his earlier fight, the other champion had managed to stab his sword arm making it more difficult to fight. “Ow. In the water I can’t really feel this anymore but out,” he laughed gently, “it still stings.”

Britannia hummed and examined the wound with gentle fingers. It posed no threat, the healing waters having closed the penetrated flesh, but it still ached. "You were pierced by an enchanted sword forged by a god. It will take longer to heal, even here. Here..." Britannia rubbed the pad of his thumb over the wound. Golden sunlight lingered in its wake, and when it disappeared Alfred's skin was flawlessly healed. Alfred stared in awe. 

The god tipped the mortal's chin up. Alfred looked into Britannia's eyes. The sympathy and mercy he found there would only last a few hundred years until power corrupted him. 

"Swear to me that you will stay by my side for all eternity. Not as my champion, but as my lover." No god had ever asked this of a human, to live beyond his natural years as a lover. Gods commonly took their champions as lovers but never demanded a formal pledge.

Alfred's eyes grew wide for a moment before gazing tenderly at the god. He gently took Arthur's hand from under his chin and kissed each knuckle before responding. “My dearest Arthur, I will never leave your side even if my soul is separated from my body I shall forever remain yours. Until the day my very soul itself is vanquished, I shall always love you. I swear to you I shall remain by your side, defending both your honor and your heart. Never again shall you be alone. I am yours forever.”

For a moment Britannia's eyes flickered in shock, but he recovered just as quickly. "Then I hold you to your vow, my Golden Champion." He sealed the vow with a kiss. As he drew back he plucked Alfred's lower lip with his teeth, moaning. 

"Let's see if you can handle a god," he growled playfully and reached between them. As Alfred gave himself up to pleasure once again, he heard the god gasp in his ear, "How does it feel? Tell me how good it feels..." 

~

"....lfred. How does it feel, Alfred? Is the poison still spreading?" Britannia sounded worried as he laid a cool cloth over Alfred's head. Alfred was lying in bed in his house having just woken up from a feverish dream.

Alfred coughed lightly; his breathing was labored as his body tried to heal itself. “Hot. It’s hot.” He complained as he tried to kick off the blankets only to become further entangled in the sheets. “Arthur,” Alfred moaned in pain as his injured arm twisted, he was half-delirious from the poison that flowed through his blood stream as well as the still agonizing pain coming from his arm and abdomen. “Thirsty.”

Britannia briskly tucked the blankets around him again. He hauled Alfred upright with an arm behind his back and tipped a cup of cool water to Alfred's lips with his free hand.

As soon as the water touched his lips Alfred drank as though he hadn’t had water in months causing him to nearly choke. He coughed and sputtered as the water went down the wrong pipe. Once he stopped coughing he lulled his head against Arthur's chest and mumbled, “I’m sorry.” He tried to bring himself to look up at the god but his neck didn’t want to hold his head up. “I’m sorry I broke my promise. I’m sorry.”

Britannia stiffened. Alfred could not see his face, even when he was laid back down. The god's voice was grave when he spoke. "You are sorry, but you do not regret it." A splash of water was heard as Britannia rung out the cloth and replaced it on his head.

“I’m sorry,” Alfred murmured again as his body fell back into the dark recesses of sleep. Perhaps Arthur was right. He didn’t regret it, but he regretted the pain it had caused. He regretted hurting the love of his life in the worst way possible even if it was to try and save him. At least that much he did regret.


	10. Chapter 10

Alfred was still had a light fever when he woke the next day, but he was well enough to understand that for once it seemed Arthur had truly given him a choice. He knew that it was his choice now if he wanted to fight against Gilbert again or forfeit any chance of Arthur ever regaining his powers and his glade. Alfred lay in bed slipping in and out of light sleep as Arthur prepared a simple meal for him to eat.

Britannia watched Alfred fluctuate between sleep and wakefulness from the threshold of the bedroom. He crossed the room and climbed into bed while balancing a bowl of soup in his hand. He set the soup down and looked at Alfred's sleeping face. The man's fever finally broke in the night. Britannia knew he'd make it through, but the sickness alarmed him. Figures the soul of that half-god, half-demon was poison itself. 

He made up his mind. When he returned to the Heavens, so shall he leave Alfred to the man's life on Earth. He planned to enslave Alfred when the time was right, to trap him in a prison that used to be his oasis-- the very glade Alfred fought to reclaim on Britannia's behalf. It was poetic justice to imprison Alfred in the very place he violated Britannia's heart. That's what Britannia thought. 

He didn't think that way anymore. Even now Britannia could not help but fervently obsess over a love that died long ago. Perhaps it was his nature as a god of worship to demand of a human more than what he could give. The Alfred of now could not give Britannia the Alfred of the past. Britannia's Alfred, his golden champion, was dead and never coming back. But Britannia could never stop loving him. He would likely watch Alfred throughout all his lifetimes for eternity. He would watch Alfred in his next life when memories of Britannia were all forgotten. He would watch Alfred grow up, fall in love, and grow old and die. Time and again. Only it would no longer be hopeful and happy. 

Britannia stroked Alfred's gold-spun hair. He marveled at how peaceful he looked. He hoped Alfred would always look peaceful when he slept.

Alfred's eyes fluttered open at the touch, still drowsy from sleep he hummed at the tingling sensation of fingers running through his hair. “Arthur? Is the food done already?” He scrunched his brow in confusion not fully aware he had spent the better part of an hour sleeping. “That was fast.”

Britannia hummed noncommittally, attention focused elsewhere. He snapped out of his haze and took the bowl of soup. "Get up. Can you eat on your own?"

Alfred struggled to sit up his right arm still nearly useless and his body still painful to move, but eventually he managed to sit up enough that he could eat. “I suppose if I can’t I’ll end up wearing the soup rather than eating it. I might as well try. You said I have a few days until Ludwig comes back for my answer correct? I suppose the battle will happen soon after too depending on my answer. Injured or not I need to be able to at least use my arm.” Alfred held out his good hand for the bowl knowing his right still couldn’t hold the weight.

Britannia handed Alfred the soup and watched him drink out of the bowl. He waited until he was finished. "Will you stand for a rematch?"

Alfred looked at him as though he was surprised by the question he smiled trying to appear confident. “Of course. I promise to help return you to your glade and I am a man of my word.” Alfred's face fell slightly remembering his recent dream of the past, “Or at least try to be…”

"It was never meant to last." Britannia's eyes gave nothing away, but there was also no life in them. "It was all a pretty dream. For a while, at least." He took Alfred's empty bowl and left. Alfred was strong enough to sustain himself, so Britannia found no purpose staying. He was gone for months. If Alfred tried to find him, he did not show himself. 

It was Ludwig who appeared to Alfred when the man was ready to give his answer. The god of war asked Alfred if he would rematch Gilbert in fair terms. 

"He will have no weapon this time. Will you accept?"

“Not under those terms.” Alfred leaned against the door frame of his home still weary from his wounds. “He may have a weapon but it will be a mortal weapon. I will fight him on as even a playing ground as I can manage to create.” Alfred sighed wincing as he aggravated his healing stomach wound. “If I cannot manage to beat him as an equal than what sort of champion am I? Never before did I fight with a handicap nor will I now.”

"I will concede to your terms." He had a grudging respect for Alfred despite the man having killed his champion years ago.

“Honos,” Alfred looked to the ground trying to decide what words to use to voice his request. “If I win, can you give Britannia just his glade back?” He laughed gently at himself before looking the god in the eyes. “I know who am I to make such requests of the gods when this problem is mainly my fault, but you know what he was like when he had all that power. As much as I hope this experience has changed him, I know given time the power will corrupt him again. I don’t want to hurt him anymore than I already have. So if it is in the will of the nine, please, just his glade.”

Alfred hesitated before making his next request, “And… if it can be so I wish for this to be the last lifetime I know of Britannia, God of the Skies. I- I can’t bear to live another lifetime living like this. I just want to forget everything after this.” Alfred cleared his throat trying to rid himself of the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He bowed ignoring the pain as he did so, “I will not question if the nine decide upon a different outcome, but I had to make my thoughts known.”

"Because of you, Alfred, Britannia is properly cowed, for now. Who is to say he will not return to his wicked ways?" Ludwig frowned, mulling over Alfred's proposition. "I will deliberate on your plea with the Nine," he said at length. 

"Until then, rest up. You will need all of your strength. My brother will not go down easily." He vanished in a flash of light.

Alfred laughed as Ludwig left, as if he needed to be reminded of the battle ahead of him. With a sigh he headed back to bed deciding that he would rather just sleep away the rest of the day than deal with his thoughts. Arthur was going to be livid if he ever found out what Alfred just requested of Ludwig and he wasn’t interested in considering the consequences right now. He collapsed on the unmade bed and pulled the covers up snuggling one of the pillows, sleep that’s what he needed the match was set for two months from now giving Alfred the time he needed to recover. That was all he’d worry about tomorrow after he awoke, for now he slept dreaming of his happier past and letting the present disappear. 

~

When Alfred awoke the day of the match, Britannia's half-lidded cat eyes gazed back at him. The god was perched on Alfred's lap. Alfred somehow slept with someone sitting on him. 

"Today has come," he said simply. He looked the same as always despite being on top of Alfred in a compromising position. "You were calling my name in your sleep."

“My legs would appreciate some blood flow.” Alfred mumbled as he slowly woke up to Arthur. “I was dreaming it was a good dream too.” Alfred stared at Arthur waiting for the other to move, sighing when the god did nothing more than stare back. “Where have you been? Ludwig showed up weeks ago, I thought you would have been there to greet him.”

"What did you dream about?" Alfred's question either flew over his head or he ignored it completely. Before Alfred came to Britannia watched him sleep. His name passed through the man's lips several times, but Britannia could make no sense of the content if his dream.

A playful smile pulled at Alfred's lips, “Why do you want to know?” Arthur didn’t often ask domestic kinds of questions like that. It both amused and puzzled Alfred. “It was just a dream.”

"Did you dream of the past?" This was most likely as Britannia was certain it happened before. "Were we fucking? Were we lying together and talking? Were we bathing in the lake?" He seemed amused with the idea. "Or did you dream of looking for me?" A crooked grin brought out the sarcasm in that question.

Alfred’s smile softened, “None of those I’m afraid. It was much simpler than that. We were simply eating dinner and talking about the change in the monarchy.” Alfred hesitated before placing his hand on Arthur's thigh gently rubbing his thumb over the god’s pant leg. “Still it’s a happy memory. Speaking of food I’m starving how about some eggs and bread?”

Britannia glanced at the hand. He was in his "human camouflage" outfit Alfred gave him. If he was in his usual garb he would feel the warm callous of Alfred's hand. Through the fabric it only tingled. "I suppose." He didn't look up from the hand (and neither did he intent to cook for Alfred--that was over).

Alfred laughed gently at the way Arthur silently puzzled over Alfred's actions, it was one of the more endearing qualities that had seemed to remain the same even after power corrupted him. “Arthur, love, I can’t make breakfast with you sitting on me.” The word slipped out before Alfred could even realize he said it, and his throat seemed to swell shut from the nervous knot that built in his throat when he realized what he said.

Britannia's eyes snapped up and searched Alfred's face. His eyes went round with vulnerability, but he didn't spirit himself away like he did before. His mouth opened and struggled to form words. 

"This will be my last day." /to be with you/. "I vowed to repay you. What is your desire?"

Alfred stared at Arthur not quite sure how to proceed. “Don’t you already know?” It was a simple question that received a very sad complex answer in the form of a sad frown. Alfred frowned at the sad look on Arthur's face. He sat up as well as he could with Britannia still in his lap and brought his hand up to cup the god’s face. 

Alfred returned the sad look before continuing, “From the look on your face I can tell you don’t.” He gently rubbed the god’s cheek with his thumb trying to find the words to say. “Arthur, above all else I desire one thing from you. Not money, power, fame, immortality, or even love. I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again. I am but a simple man with simple desires. All I want is to see just once more I want to see your smile. The smile you had when you loved me. The smile you had when you were truly happy. I want to know that for the rest of eternity you’re going to be wearing that smile and I’ll have been the one to put it there. Even if you never come back to see me again, at the very least always wear that smile for me.” Alfred could feel the tears well up in his eyes, “Just be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

Britannia gently broke away from Alfred's caress. "I cannot. What you ask of me contradicts yourself. You ask me to smile with the infinite depth of love and happiness only ignorance provides." He slipped out of Alfred's lap and went to the door. Before he left, he looked back. "How cruel of you to ask that I smile when you will have no memory of me, but I will remember you for eternity."

Alfred stared at the door long after Arthur had left. “How I wish the tables were reversed. I do not wish to see you suffer knowing that everything you once held so dear is now dead to you. I wish you could see that I’m right here and I fight not because of the promise I made but because beyond all reason I still love you. I just want you to be happy even if it is not with me.” He spoke to himself, but it felt better to have the words off his chest. Arthur would never look at him with that blissful expression that only came in dreams. He would never see Alfred, as he is now, as anything more than a horrible look-alike that caused him nothing but pain, cause each other nothing but pain. More than anything Alfred hated knowing that he was the cause of that pain.

It was Ludwig who summoned Alfred to the arena. Alfred found himself back in the ruins he now knew to have been the capital city of an exterminated race. The people worshipped a forgotten god, Germania, who was Gilbert and Ludwig's father. Britannia was already there, as was Gilbert. With a sneering smile the trickster flashed a plain, iron sword at Alfred.

Alfred sighed and picked up his sword, he couldn’t bring himself to spare a glance at Arthur not wanting to see the frown that was most likely present on his face. He stepped into the arena before Gilbert swinging his sword a few times happy that it no longer caused him pain to use. He watched carefully as Gilbert stepped into the ring causing the flames to rise up around them.

“Let’s get to it. It’s not as though my presence is wanted here anyways.” Alfred moved into an aggressive position wanting this fight to end quickly regardless of the outcome. It wasn’t as if he would get what he really wanted by winning the fight.

Gilbert chuckled amusedly and readied himself into a counter position. "So eager to die." He clicked his tongue. 

Gilbert was first to strike. He was eager to end it, too. There was a great deal of shame to have ended at a penalty--to a human, no less. 

"You may be a one of the best champions, but you are still a human!"

As he fought Alfred fell into autopilot he couldn’t feel the nicks and scratches that Gilbert inflicted on him all that mattered was winning this fight and then letting it all disappear. His mind ran purely on instinct drilled into him after hundreds of years fighting champion after champion, Arthur had even set him to fight dragons merely for sport. Alfred wasn’t afraid this time because now he knew Gilbert was truly no stronger than him when enchanted with Britannia’s magic. 

Alfred spoke not a word as he went blow for blow with Gilbert, barely even breaking a sweat. His feet seemed to dance around the battle field in quick practiced movements. No there was no need to be afraid he had already won the moment Gilbert entered the arena.

"The mortal will win this fight." Britannia nodded in agreement. Ludwig went on. "Alfred requested that this be his last life remembering you--"

"I know." Britannia stared ahead. He did not need to be told what he already knew. Neither did he need to be privy to Alfred's request to know what was deep in the man's heart.

Alfred was quick on his feet as he maneuvered out of Gilbert’s reach causing the demi-god to lose his balance giving Alfred the opportunity to deal the final blow. He took his chance and returned the favor as his blade pierced straight through Gilbert piercing both his diaphragm and lung. 

“What was it that you said? I’m only human? Well remember this, Trickster, you were only half a god.” Alfred pulled his blade from the demi-god and watched him nearly collapse sputtering for breaths of air. He turned to Ludwig silently asking if the god truly wanted his half-brother to die.

Gilbert dropped his sword and staggered back. He clutched his chest and ground his palm over the wound to stem the blood flow. A few inches to the right and Alfred would have penetrated his heart. Alfred deliberately missed. The demigod hacked up blood and spat it on the ground. He bled from his chest and from the inside, but he still managed to stay on his feet. When Ludwig crossed the arena boundary to his brother, Gilbert only wrenched his arm away when Ludwig tried to touch him. The demigod would survive, but he was gravely wounded. 

Ludwig frowned at his brother's sore behavior and turned to Alfred. Britannia stood by Alfred's side as the war god addressed Alfred. 

"Alfred F. Jones, I declare you victor of the duel against Gilbert the Trickster. You fought on behalf of your former guardian god, Britannia. Did you not agree to fight for Britannia's divinity?"

Alfred addressed Ludwig alone as he spoke, “I fought to return him to his home nothing more. What the nine choose to do after is their choice alone.” Alfred bowed and walked toward the edge of the arena while the small scratches he sustained in the fight stung, but nothing hurt worse than his chest. His heart ached painfully with the knowledge that this was officially the last time he would ever be near Arthur, the last lifetime he would know of Arthur as more than just another god. He fought back the tears and looked back at the god his eyes riddled with sadness. “Goodbye.”

Britannia stared after him in shock, but he was oddly underwhelmed by Alfred's answer. As he watched Alfred's retreating back (...so common these days), his eyes softened. He dare not speak for fear of voicing his despair and melancholy. 

Ludwig's booming voice broke through Alfred's thoughts. "You leave me with a delicate situation. Britannia was stripped of his divinity on account of you, and the conditions for my returning Britannia his divinity was Britannia's reconciliation with you in some way that will ensure Britannia would cease this tomfoolery. But instead you ask that Britannia have only his glade." He fixed Alfred in a grave stare. "If you feel so entitled to delegate a god's divinity, then I shall entrust it to you. Alfred, you will take up Britannia's former domain and inherit the skies. Humans will depend on your rain to water their crops and your sunshine to lift their hearts." His cold eyes flicked to Britannia. "Is that clear?"

Alfred's eyes blew wide in shock, this was not what he wanted. He just wanted to live the rest of his life in peace and then live his next in blissful ignorance. Now he would receive neither he would be forced to live the rest of eternity holding a position that did not belong to him. He swallowed back the panicked bile that rose in his throat. “Surely there must be someone else more suited to the position. I am merely a mortal what do I know of power. Come now Honos, don’t be ridiculous. Even Gilbert would do much better in the position than I.” 

"He would not," he assured. Ludwig was ill just thinking about his brother running amuck in the skies. Britannia cut in to object, but the god cleaved his arm out in the air signaling the end of the discussion and his patience. "Silence!" he roared, "I have spoken." He cut the three of them such a harsh glare even Britannia couldn't help but cower. "Now leave me in peace. Do not come to me again with petty love affairs." 

The god of war left without ceremony. Gilbert followed. Britannia and Alfred were left in the deserted arena alone together. 

Britannia fell to his knees and collapsed on the ground. He was sobbing, his hands covering his crying face as he curled in on himself. It was over, but it was nothing like Britannia expected. He thought Alfred would sanction the return of Britannia's divinity, but it was given to Alfred instead. It meant that Alfred could go on with his life, as altered as it may be, while Britannia was left with almost nothing.

“A- Arthur,” Alfred didn’t quite know what to say. What does one say when they accidentally steal away what their once lover desired more than anything? Nothing could change the fact that Alfred stole everything from Arthur. “I- I didn’t mean- I never wanted it to be like this. Arthur, please! You have to believe me I never wanted this!”

Suddenly Alfred's head was shot through with excruciating pain, he cried out clutching his head as he collapsed on the ground. His armor that covered his back felt tight, constraining. The fabric ripped and the metal groaned as it bent out of place. In a flash of white the metal plate burst off his back and where the armor once lay, two beautiful white wings took its place. 

Britannia hissed and clutched his back. His wings began to smolder like the embers in a dying fire. They burned and turn to ash. Britannia's feathers turned grey and fluttered to the ground. The skin and bone left behind cracked and broke off. Only charred stumps remained of the god's beautiful wings. What was once the symbol of the god's divinity and Britannia's greatest pride, now lay scattered on the ground like a cremated corpse.

Alfred looked up at the now powerless god, his back ached and his head throbbed still but he could see now Arthur was suffering a similar fate to him. Whatever was left of Arthur's former splendor was now gone leaving a powerless man in its wake. 

Alfred tried to stand up and go to Arthur, but his body felt off balance. He looked down at himself not seeing much out of place until he caught a glimpse of his shadow. He quickly looked behind him to confirm what the sun already told him and behind him were a pair of wings as glorious as Arthur's once were.

He looked back at Arthur panic still evident in his eyes. “A- Arthur? What’s happening to me?” Alfred's voice quivered like a small child looking for guidance. “A-Arthur? Please, make it stop.”

"I cannot." Britannia's voice was devoid of affect as he climbed to his feet. It looked like two tree branch stumps had shot out of his shoulder blades. His back was turned when he spoke. "How does it feel? You can change the skies and alter the weather. It must be exhilarating for a mortal to find himself endowed with such power."

“Please, I’m scared. Arthur I don’t want this. Take it back!” Alfred quickly made his way over to Arthur grasping onto the other’s wrist. He kneeled before Arthur pressing his face to the back of Arthur's hand, fearful tears slowly dripped from his face. “Please, just take them back. I never meant for this to happen.” His voice cracked as his tears slowly turned to hysterics. “I don’t want this! I never wanted this! Please make it stop!”

"It is not my decision!" Britannia screamed and wrenched his arm away like a vicious animal. He spun on Alfred, poison in eyes filled and voice dripping with venom. "How could you?! You..." Britannia's eyes pulsed wide seeing the wings and tightly squeezed them shut. He couldn't bear to look at them. "Why..." His whole body violently shuddered. "Why must you punish me so terribly?"

“I’M SORRY!!” Alfred screamed and with his hysterics the sky above grew cloudy beginning to rumble with the sound of thunder. He had no idea how to control his new found powers and so his powers turn and used his emotions to direct them. Lightning struck the ground beside them causing Alfred to cringe in fear of the very power he once found fascinating. Rain began to pour down increasing in strength with each passing second. “Make it stop,” Alfred pleaded miserably.

Britannia barked a laugh. That Alfred dared to ask Britannia to tutor him in his own art outraged him. "Or what? Will you enslave me?"

“I would never-” Alfred was shocked Arthur could even accuse him of such. “Is that truly what you think of me? You think I wanted any of this? You think I meant for this to happen?! I just wanted the fucking powers to disappear! I never wanted them! I just wanted to live the rest of my life and then DIE!” Alfred's voice broke with a small sob, “Now I’ll never die. Now I’m stuck miserably like this for the rest of time!”

An idea suddenly occurred to Alfred, if he couldn’t rid himself of the powers by begging then he would take matters into his own hands. Alfred grasped hold of one of his wing at the base and started to try and pull the wing off his body, but only succeeded in plucking out his own feathers. In his desperation to escape the fate that was being thrust upon him Alfred whipped out a dagger from his belt and moved to slice the wing off his back not caring that such a move could easily cause him to bleed half to death.

"Alfred!" Britannia lunged forward and caught Alfred wrist in his hands. Wrestling for the knife, Britannia managed to twist it out of Alfred's grasp despite his weakness. He grabbed Alfred by the shoulders and shook him frantically. "Control yourself!" Alfred's behavior frightened him enough that the god forgot himself. Tears pricked Britannia's eyes and flooded his vision. Desperation overcame him as he threw himself against Alfred and held the man from death. "Alfred... What have you done...?" He buried his face in Alfred's neck and cried for the both of them.


	11. Chapter 11

The wounds began to heal instantaneously as though they never happened as Arthur held him. Alfred's body quivered in fear of what had become of him. “Please, I just want it to stop.” Alfred clung to Arthur and sobbed from fear, anger, pain, grief; all at once the emotions hit him. The rain poured down on them joining them in their pain. Everything was different now and Alfred didn’t like the change.

Britannia said nothing, but only continued holding him. They didn't know how long they stayed like this, but at one point they slowly drifted to their knees. Britannia exhausted himself in Alfred's arms but couldn't bring himself to let go. After all that's happened, that was one thing that never changed.

Once Alfred had calmed down enough to talk rationally, he decided that if he was going to be stuck like this he had to at least understand the basics of it until he could figure out how to fix the situation. He sniffled lightly his breath still shaky from crying, “How do I get the rain to stop? I’m cold and I’d like the rain to stop.”

"It is a matter of will. The skies are a reflection of your temperament, but it is more than your mood that controls the rain and sunshine." His lips quirked ever so slightly at Alfred's confusion. "You can be sad and bless the world with the sunniest day." He tilted Alfred's chin up to gaze into his eyes. "Imagine it."

Alfred closed his eyes willing himself to focus on the image of a warm, sunny day. He pictured the clouds clearing and slowly bit by bit sun beams. When he opened his eyes it wasn’t exactly the picture he had imagined, the sky still had many clouds in it but the sun gently shone through the gaps between. Alfred sighed in frustration, “I tried it didn’t work. I'm not cut out for this it was your job to begin with...” Alfred looked down sadly at his hands. "I'm sorry. I'm useless. A failure as a champion as well as a wanna-be god."

"You will get better... I suppose." The ache in Britannia's voice was undeniable. Alfred's massive wings took up almost all of his vision. With fearful tentativeness he lifted his hand and ran his fingers through the ivory-white plumage. The tips of Alfred's wings were dipped in gold, a breathtaking color unlike anything Britannia ever saw. "Beautiful," he sighed sadly.

“I’m nothing when compared to you.” Alfred looked up at Arthur, his small smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He raised his hand hesitating before reaching back to touch the stubs that were once enchantingly white wings. “Is there any way to fix this? I know how much you loved your wings.”

When Alfred touched his wings and he could not feel it, a sick foreboding congealed at the pit of Britannia's stomach. Something wasn't right. Anxiously looking over his shoulder, Britannia realized the nerves in his wings were damaged. It saddened him. It was just one more thing taken from him. Not that it would matter anymore... "Ah, there's not much left, anyway," he said to himself. He shook his head. "I cannot say for certain, but there is almost certainly no hope." 

Britannia batted Alfred's hands away and stepped out of his reach. He walked out of the arena. He gave Alfred the advice he needed; his purpose was fulfilled and there was no reason to linger. Alfred wanted nothing more than to forget him, and Britannia had no spirit to provoke or withstand his former lover's wish.

“You’re going to leave no matter what I say, aren’t you?”Alfred called out after him; the pain was clear on Alfred's face though he try to hide it. “I suppose it’s no better than I deserve, but you deserve to be happy even if you aren’t now I hope one day you will be again.” 

He stared down at his hands balling them into fists his determination rising. “I’ll find a way to fix this. I don’t know how long it will take but I will fix this. Until then I suppose this is goodbye isn’t it?” Alfred glanced up at Arthur hoping beyond hope Arthur would tell him that he believed him that they were going to be okay, but life had never been that kind to him.

To Alfred's surprise and hope, Britannia stopped. "What has befallen me was just as you wished," the god said softly. "My glade has returned but my divinity has not." He spun on Alfred, his eyes naked with vulnerability and weakness. "You mourn only for yourself, Alfred! Your "guilt" is misplaced pity for yourself. Poor Alfred, who must live with the consequences of his indiscretion! If only he were blissfully ignorant of the damage he has done!" As he cried, his bleak tears fell forgotten in the torrential rain.

“I-” Alfred began ready to defend his actions, but instead he stopped and stared at the ground. “You’re right.” He admitted after a short time. “I do pity myself for the fate I have caused, but my guilt for the damage I have caused you is real. I never meant for this to happen, but in my blind ignorance I have caused this mess. You have every right to hate me. In fact I’d be surprised if you didn’t. Still I created this mess and as such it is my job to try and fix it.”

"Do whatever. I care not." Britannia narrowed his eyes skeptically. "But why ask for amnesia at all? Would not my absence be enough? If you did not care then memories should not matter."

“It is not the happy times I wish to forget, neither is it the sad times, but the times I lived in fear of you and what you called love. I want to forget that. I want you preserved in my mind as the glorious being I loved, the one who would gently heal my wounds and mend my sorrows.” Alfred gently wiped his eyes of the tears that began prickling there, “I may be wrong for what I have done but can you not see that you too have been wrong? I blame you not for this predicament, but it is my fear of you and your power together that have lead to it.”

"How could I have known? You never objected." Britannia went silent in contemplation, carefully measuring out his words. "But if you had, I would not have listened. You gave me love, but I did not know how to return it. Rather, I acted on my passions for that moment. Love, hate, lust, jealousy...I gave you all and spared you nothing." His eyes flicked to Alfred's. "You would not understand. Love was one and the same to me. These lips that kissed you and mocked you acted out of the same love. When you killed yourself...I denied what had happened because I did not understand. And upon learning the truth still I could not understand why anything I did out of love was so terrible to you. If I had known then what I know now, perhaps I would have loved you better, but perhaps I would have moved on to spare myself pain. I have loved and lost for hundreds of years, and I will do so for hundreds more."

Alfred wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. He had a feeling it was always something like this, he knew Arthur had never known or even shown affection to anyone but him. Even so the god had crossed the line between ignorance and abuse far too many times. Alfred reveled in the days where he would and Britannia would make love and cower in fear of the days Britannia would beat him for a mere slip of words. “Could you truly not see the pain behind my smiles as I prayed each day I would not slip up? I love you. I have always loved you, but living in fear of the one I loved was not the life I wanted to lead. I thought that if I could just rid you of your powers I would not need to live in that fear any longer. I just wanted to be happy, but in trying to do so I hurt you.”

Britannia searched Alfred's eyes but found no falsehood in them. "I do not deny your pain, nor do I deny your fear." He shook his head sadly. "I understand your actions, misguided as they were, because I shared that desperate love with you. But as the truth finally comes to light I realize what we had was not what I thought we had. We missed each other's points so many times." Britannia slowly approached Alfred, and with infinite care cupped Alfred's face in his hand. "But I know this; it wasn't meant to last. What we had...it was just a dream."

Alfred closed his eyes, nuzzling into Britannia’s hand. He loved Arthur, he truly did, but the god was right. What had once seemed a love that would last the ages was simply a dysfunctional relationship based on hopeless dependence for one another. He slowly opened his eyes gazing up at Arthur sadly, he smiled ever so slightly before speaking, “You’re right what we had was a dream. When we tried to drag that dream to the waking world it crumbled in our grasps. What could a mortal do to ever understand of a god’s burdens? What could a god ever do to understand a mortal’s love?” Alfred's lip quivered as he fought back tears knowing that this truly was the end of their past together. “Even still it was a beautiful dream while it lasted.”

"Alfred..." Britannia's voice was hollow with longing and surrender as he whispered his lover's name with the reverence of a holy name. Lowering his hand, the god leaned up to embrace Alfred's lips in one final kiss. It was nothing more than a chaste encounter with Britannia's lips sealed over Alfred's bottom lip as Alfred captured the small arch of Britannia's Cupid's bow. When it was over Britannia stepped back. It was difficult to tell if he was crying. They regarded each other in silence. 

Britannia turned and walked away, leaving Alfred alone in the middle of the arena. The Fallen god faded into the abyss that opened up for his departure. Alfred would not see Britannia again for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry it’s so short next one will be longer I promise also only 2 chapters left in this story. Thanks for all the awesome reviews this last time around!


	12. Chapter 12

Three hundred years had passed and in that time Alfred truly began to understand just what had made Arthur tick. The constant stress of having to keep his emotions under control, having to worry about what the other gods were plotting, having to ensure he kept the weather and seasons in order providing food for the mortals below. Even listen to them beg and plead for sun during the rain and for rain during seasons of drought.

Whenever he found himself a spare second he would sit on the clouds and just watch the world below. Humans were so weak and their lives so insignificant. They lived they died and no one thought twice about it. What bothered him the most was the way monarchies treated their subjects. They acted as though they were gods and yet Alfred could do nothing to them. If he tried to starve them out then the peasants would starve first. He was so powerful and yet powerless to do anything.

After about a hundred years had passed some of the gods that Alfred could now trust just slightly more than others (Feliciano, Ludwig, and even Francis) began to encourage him to find a champion and begin living life like a god. He always rejected the idea simply because he knew that life, he knew the pain that came with it and he did not want to see another suffer as he did.

For everything Alfred hated about his new life he found something he liked about it as well. After centuries of hard work he had mastered the art of healing. He had access to the library of the gods which provided him with not only every ounce of information ever known to the world, but it also contained all knowledge known to the gods themselves. He couldn’t help but try and research how to return his powers to whom they truly belonged, but no matter how hard he searched it was in vain.

He thought often of Arthur and the pain he had caused him, but could never bring himself to try and gaze down on that special glade to try and see if he still resided there. He wondered if Arthur ever thought of him good or bad it was nice to imagine that he wasn’t the only one lonely. Yet as much as he missed him Alfred knew it was better that he and Arthur remain apart for how long exactly he was unsure, but he assumed he would know when the time was right to meet his former love again.

It was on a day like any other Alfred rested upon the clouds staring down at the mortals below. Alfred sensed his friend before he landed behind Alfred trying to be sneaky.

"Say, Alfred," a sweet voice rang in Alfred's ear. It was Feliciano, who had immediately taken a shining to the god because they both had wings. Feliciano was gentle and easy to talk to, and the god of peace sympathized with Alfred's predicament more than anyone. Unlike most other gods who shunned Alfred because he wasn't one of them, Feliciano was one if Alfred's few, but true, friends. 

"Why are you looking so sad, friend? It is a beautiful day!" He made a wide, sweeping gesture at the beautiful blue sky, cloudless but for the thin pillow of cirrus they rested upon. Alfred had come a long way of tempering his mood and controlling the wind and rain. 

The god of peace sat next to Alfred on the edge and looked down. His usually passive smile was even more exuberant today, though there was no reason why as far as Alfred could tell.

“Beautiful as it may be there is not much else to be happy about.” Alfred replied wearily before looking over at Feliciano with a gentle but forced smile. “Unless that is you have some news you desire to share with me.”

"Perhaps," Feli agreed with a mild smile. "Come! It's time." He pulled Alfred up to his feet and patted his shoulder. "Follow me." He swept into the air with a few powerful thrusts of his wings. He laughed merrily and spun in the air. "Come!" Without looking back to see if Alfred was following, Feliciano zipped through the sky as fast as lightning.

Alfred sighed at the happy-go-lucky god; nothing could seem to upset him. Nonetheless he followed after if for nothing more than some entertainment on another sad boring day, it wasn’t like the world would change in an instant if he left his watch. 

He easily caught up with Feliciano having first learned how to fly because of the other’s generosity in teaching him. “So where exactly are we going?” He asked once he was close enough.

Feliciano just smiled patiently, leading on. They crossed miles and miles and still did not stop. As they flew, the air began to change. They were entering into another realm. It imitated the exact likeness of the mortal realm but for a small floating island in the distance. Britannia's glade was like its own island paradise among the clouds. No god could enter Britannia's domain without his permission--no one besides Feliciano, anyway.

Alfred balked and hovered in the sky. He recognized the floating island as soon as it came into view and the sight scared him. He wasn’t sure if he was even ready to see Arthur again. Would Arthur be happy to see him or become upset? Alfred wasn’t quite sure he knew or even wanted to know. “Feli what are we doing here?”

"We are visiting Britannia," Feliciano answered kindly to Alfred's obvious question. Before Alfred thought of bolting he took the man's hand in his and led him to the ground. They lighted gently in a sprawling green field at the fringe of a forest. Feliciano led him by the hand into the woodwork. As they laced through the trees not one bird stirred the air with sound; the entire forest seemed to hold its breath, frozen in time. They traveled to the heart of the forest and into a clearing. The lake Alfred remembered was still as sleep. This private space, too, was bereft of spirit. And, amidst it was a wide spread of flowers. 

Feliciano disentangled their hands and approached the bed of blooming red poppies. Careful of the flowers, he kneeled next to Britannia's sleeping figure and brushed the hair out of his eyes.

“Don’t wake him!” Alfred hissed in a panic, all his mind could replay were their final parting words. “Come let’s go he obviously doesn’t want to be disturbed,” his words no louder than a harsh whisper. He stepped back away from Arthur's sleeping form pausing in fright as Arthur sighed and moved in his sleep.

"Are you not glad to see him?" Feliciano peacefully watched the god rest. Britannia's sleeping face was gentle and clear of troubles. "When Britannia exiled himself to this place, he wept. He wept for years without rest, and Herakles took pity on Britannia and cast him into a deep, dreamless slumber. Here he has slept for years, untroubled by the realities of the waking world."

“How long has he been asleep?” Alfred asked less frightened now that he knew Arthur was under an enchanted slumber and would not likely wake unless the spell was lifted. “Surely it could not have been more than a hundred years since his slumber began.”

"Two, perhaps," Feliciano looked around. "You know the love and hate that took place in this glade. The trees remember everything, and they haunted him with their recreations." His eyes turned back to Alfred expectantly.

“They didn’t have to do that. It must have been torture to have to relive the past like that.” He slowly stepped forward towards Arthur hesitantly until he was on the other side of the sleeping god’s body. He was happy that he couldn’t see the pain that was there the last time they had seen one another, but still felt bad that Arthur was forced to relive perhaps both the best and worst parts of his life. Alfred knew all too well how painful it was to dwell in the past. He gently cupped his hand to Arthur's cheek and rubbed small soothing circles. “You want me to wake him don’t you?”

"Of course! I am the god of peace, but I am also the god of reconciliation and negotiation. I am a mediator for warring powers and can venture where no one else can." His smile was too innocent to be mischievous, but it was clear Feliciano took satisfaction in breaching Britannia's forbidden glade in the name of love. "If you will not have him back, you may only say the word and we shall be off. But I chose this day for a reason."

“I know not your reasons, but your guidance and advice have yet to fail me.” Alfred looked down as Arthur contemplating if he should actually wake the god up. Would Arthur be mad at him or would he be happy to see him again? Alfred sighed knowing the only way to find out was to actually wake him up. He bent down his lips ghosting over Arthur's and whispered, “It’s time to wake up now, Arthur.” He gently kissed the other’s lips and pulled back watching as Arthur's eyes slowly fluttered open. Alfred could feel his heart near stop as those beautiful emeralds stared up at him. “Good morning, sleepy head.”

"Alfred..." Britannia murmured in a thick dream haze. He blinked sedately and looked around, gathering his wits. His eyes rested back on Alfred looking more curious than anything else. "Why are you here?"

Alfred's heart ached at the sound of the other’s voice, but he smiled through the slight pain. “To wake you up. You’ve been asleep for a very long time, and now it’s time to get up.”

A soft, subdued sigh passed Britannia lips. He was languidly calm from a peaceful sleep; his mind was acute but too contented for troubles to disturb it. He brushed the man's cheek with the back of his fingers, lingering over his lips. "Has it happened yet? Have you forgiven me?"

Alfred's eyes softened as he placed his hand over Arthur's, “No, what you did to me was unforgivable, as is what I have done to you, but I’m willing to move past it if you are.” Alfred brought Arthur’s hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle gently as he stroked the back of his hand. “My feelings for you haven’t diminished in the slightest even after these three hundred years apart. I love you.” He chuckled gently to himself, “I know I shouldn’t but I do. I love you.”

"I retreated to my glade and hid myself away from the world, but still I could not escape this hell. Memories haunted my waking life. When I brought you into my glade, your ghost never left, and the times we spent here played itself out as real as if I were witnessing it as a spectator. Making love in the lake, holding each other on the smooth, sun-baked rocks, holding hands as we strolled down the forest path. My heart was too grieved to partake in our past joy. But, there were also the times I struck out at you in my jealousy and anger. I injured your body, but the true scars ran deep into your heart and spirit. Outside of my hate, I saw your suffering for the first time. I could not stop it. I tried to, but I could not." Britannia took his hand and filled his fingers in the spaces between Alfred's fingers like they were made to be there. "I did not understand what loving a god took out of a mortal. I did not treat you like a lover, but like a worshipper." His eyes closed and sleepily lolled his head to the side.

“I too have seen what you used to see. I watch as the people below turned on each other, lie and cheat, burn and pillage. But, I also saw the god-fearing side of people who would beg and plead for rain or sun simply so they may live another day.”

“I have seen what other gods do simply for power. I have watched their games and seen their greed first hand. What you must have dealt with, what you must have fought against. I’m beginning to understand to be a god one must learn to be cruel in order to survive. I’m sorry for not understanding that sooner.” Alfred once more kissed Arthur's hand as he gazed down fondly at the only being he could ever call the love of his life.

Britannia watched him peacefully, content to behold his visage after all these years. The leaves were beginning to stir, and the water rippled. The glade was coming alive. 

"Three hundred years to this day the two of you parted ways," Feliciano gently cut in, "it took this long to come to an understanding on your own. How you move on is up to you."

“Shall we start over?” Alfred suggested as he ran his fingers through Arthur's hair. “We are practically strangers to one another now.”

Britannia shook his head. "No." And before Alfred's eyes filled with heartbreak he touched the man's lips to pause his thoughts. "I want to remember every hurt, every joy. Our reckless love and blind hate brought us here, but I would not change it because it is ours. I want you to remember my cruelty so you can know my kindness." As he spoke his fingertips traced over the noble features of Alfred's youthful face.

Alfred's eyes fluttered close at the touch and a soft smile graced his lips. “I look forward to the years we have ahead of us for you to show me then. Show me the kindness I thought I’d never receive from you again and in turn I will show you the patience and understanding I never held before.” Alfred leaned down and placed a gentle peck on Arthur's lips, “In the past, present, and future I will always love you.”

A happy sigh returned them to the present. Feliciano was watching with his hands cupping his face and a smile playing on his lips. "I love my job." He inched closer and embraced two in a three-way hug. "I asked Ludwig if he would consider an amendment to his decision." Britannia frowned, but reluctantly listened. 

Feliciano gave Alfred an apologetic smile. "You have done a very good job bringing the weather to the Earth. But..." the god looked down reluctantly before meeting his eyes. "Part of being a god is harmonizing with the cosmos. The world is not fair...people are not fair, and so the gods must abide by those truths. Most gods, like Britannia, think the mortals /should/ kneel to us, and they punish those who do not. But even he knows it is the gods who work for humans. Love, war, peace, the laws of nature themselves...it exists all for the mortals on earth. We abide by them, not the opposite." He stroked Alfred's face. "With the power of gods come great responsibility, but you are a human, after all. You rule with a kind heart, but the universe is not kind." Setting his hazel eyes on Britannia, he went on. "My proposition is for Alfred to yield his domain to Britannia and co-rule it together."

A smile played on Alfred's lips as he looked at Feliciano, “We can do that?” The excitement was evident in his voice. “Arthur? What do you think?” He quickly looked to Arthur anxiously waiting for his response, because in the end Alfred would abide by Arthur's wishes, it was originally his power after all.

Britannia was dumbstruck. He didn't know what to say, let alone how to feel. It was beyond what he could ever hope for, and yet falling too short of a dream. He had succumbed to accepting his irrelevancy in the cosmos long ago. To hear two wishes fulfilled was almost too much. To have his power and Alfred... 

Not all of his former greatness would return. It never will. "I will not say that I am thankful...it would be to say that my divinity was justly taken from me and now justly returned. It was no one's to take! But I am happy...I accept Feliciano's proposition because I want you, Alfred. I want us."

Alfred could not help the bubbling happy laugher that escaped from his lips as he felt his eyes well up with happy tears at Arthur's words. He flung himself at Arthur hugging the other tightly as he buried his face in the crook of Arthur's neck mumbling, “Me too. I want you. I want us.”

Britannia smiled and returned the embrace. Feeling the warm weight of Alfred's brow he closed his eyes and sighed with exalted bliss. This was where he belonged.

Feliciano smiled and let the two enjoy the moment for a while longer before finally interrupting them with a polite cough. As the two looked over at the brunette Feliciano suggested, “You might want to sit up for this.” He gave them a moment to rise up to a sitting position before placing a gentle hand on each of their heads. “By the will of the Council of Nine, you, Alfred F. Jones, and you, Britannia of the Skies, shall henceforth evenly share the responsibility of maintaining the skies. Do you both agree to this?” 

Feliciano heard mumbled agreement before announcing, “Then let it be done.” In a flash of light the exchange happened. Alfred nearly vomited from the wave a nausea that ripped through him as half of the powers he possessed were stripped away.

With his hand on Britannia's head, Feliciano channeled the power into the god. A hazy light blossomed at the crown of Britannia's head and cascaded down his form. The ethereal glow burnished his pale skin and enveloped his entire form. It was then that a pair of ivory angel wings broke out of his back like an eggshell. Britannia gasped but showed no pain as the appendages stretched out to their majestic length. His eyes remained closed until he gathered the courage to open them. He looked at his palms, turned them over and trailed his sight up an arm. Glimpsing a wing at the corner of his eye, he extended it for a closer look. He smiled. Everything that signified his holy station was returned.

Alfred quickly shook his head ridding himself of the nausea. He quickly looked over to Arthur; his eyes blew wide as he took in the image of Arthur's beautiful wings the tips seemed as though they were dipped in silver. Reverently he gently stroked the feathers mumbling, “Beautiful,” under his breath. He jumped up excitedly extending both his wings out, the sun highlighting the subtle gold undertones in his feathers. “Come on let’s try them out!”

With significantly more poise (but no less excitement) Britannia accepted Alfred's proffered hand and joined his side. With a few thrusts of his wings Britannia was hovering in the air. After rounding a few laps in the perimeter he took off like a jet straight in the air. At the pinnacle of the sky he looked down at his small floating island. His thoughts shifted, and his face turned morose and pensive.

Alfred quickly joined him smiling like a fool simply out of pure glee only for the smile to quickly disappear once Alfred drew closer to Arthur. “Arthur? What’s wrong?” Alfred hovered close to the god and gently grasped one of his hands while he used the other to stroke Britannia’s cheek.

"This was my haven for three hundred years. And my prison." Britannia squeezed his hand and looked at him. "It is not quite the same anymore." He gazed on his glade for a long time, watching the wind breathe in the trees and listening to the network of streams that connected like veins and poured into the lake at the very center. It would be a long time until he could bring himself to return. How ironic. 

"No matter. It will still be here when I come back." He kissed Alfred sweetly, partaking in the man's unique taste. "Take me back."

Alfred smiled once more and quickly pecked Arthur's lips before flying a short ways off. He turned back to look at Arthur bemusement clear on his face, “Well what are you waiting for?”

Britannia caught up to Alfred. Feliciano was right on their heels. Together they left the glade back to the mortal realm, where they forever more ruled the skies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ok I lied there was only one chapter left. My rp partner and I decided it was better to wrap it up like this rather than more of a gag end. Anyways… Thank you to everyone who has followed this story whether you just hopped on the bandwagon or have been here from the start. I will be posting another story my partner and I have. It is entitled “Melamin” feel free to check that one out if you enjoyed this and any of our previous rps.


End file.
